Category: musing

Who owns those scrawny little feet?    Death. Who owns this bristly scorched-looking face?    Death. Who owns these still-working lungs?    Death. Who owns this utility coat of muscles?    Death. Who owns these unspeakable guts?    Death. Who owns these questionable brains?    Death. All this messy blood?    Death. These minimum-efficiency eyes?    Death. This wicked little tongue?    Death. This occasional wakefulness?    Death. Given, stolen, or held pending trial? Held.… Continue reading examination at the womb-tomb