Today  we’re being future archeologists.

In the bones, we found marrow
and stalagmites of memories.
We found teeth without personality.

In the liver, suggestion
of the last dark night
in the molasses of liquor,

and the last activity recorded
by the brain is 140 characters
of denial.

In the city of the lungs
(purple and primitive as they are)
little pockets of snow
pattern all highways.

Oh, the blood is all gone now –
whispered into the earth
like a final prayer, Dear Lord.

And the heart (a stone twisted muscle)
which, when pulled apart,
shows a dim but flickering light.

But of most interest perhaps is here
on the tongue, where we find fossils
formed of silence. Small shells
of fear or withheld love

and then here, in the labyrinth
of the lower bowel, a build-up
of what appears to be regret
mixed in with ash and dust.

Picture credit: http://vancouverisawesome.com/2014/01/29/vancouver-was-awesome-the-cave-1937-1981/

And thanks to this  fitting song shuffling on and summing up the moment so succinctly:



4 thoughts on “26:04:17

  1. “and the last activity recorded
    by the brain is 140 characters
    of denial.”

    Perfect. The entire poem is excellent, the way you’ve touched on almost every aspect of the human body. Really great insight and social commentary.

    Liked by 1 person

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