The Mortuary Slab
Lit Up — April’s Prompt: Distraction
I
Driven to distraction by a sickness.
This unrelenting madness fuels the funeral pyre I watch with dry eyes.
Devoid of tears from the shedding, I blow a kiss to the straw bedding.
I suck on the peach with increments of vampiric biting.
The fruit of thy womb resembles a rotting carcass dancing its way down my throat.
II
The old generation of families call on the creatures of grief.
If you lay me down on the mortuary slab and opened me up,
all you would find are saliva soaked book pages.
Is it wrong to consume the only thing keeping you from becoming a prisoner to yourself?
I finger the transparent packaging of store bought madeleine cakes,
the drippings of indulgence coating my fingertips.
III
My head is poisoned by the image of you laying cold in your apartment,
the leftovers stewing away in the pot.
The record player starting to skip a beat,
a foreshadowing of your body shutting down.
Your shirt is dusty,
from the fresh mochi you bought from the market.
The ice cream pools around you,
giving you angels…
