my mother(revised slightly)
Embalming fluid, a metal table, pumps sit before me,
as every day presents itself. I hoard away bodies in my crawl space.
Most have grown old and wilted in their long deaths
Like the flower on the cactus outside the building.
Radiant like the sun, but the bloom weeps.
A woman wheeled in, reminds me of my mother
The wide nose and mole at the corner of her lip.
She is positioned on the table, and I swear I feel her muscle twitch
I suddenly I feel that if I stuck the needle into her skin
And started draining,
I might just be committing murder.
My fingers on her sink like into the bruise of an apple.
I don’t know her name, how she died,
Her favorite pizza toppings, or when she lost her virginity.
And thus I drain her body like squeezing a lemon,
Then fill her back up.
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