2 hours ago
Before the Body
A soul is nothing special. Because I sleep through any noise,
they chose me for the bunker. The doctor ran a battery of tests
to test my fortitude, plinking hammers at my knees, eavesdropping
on my blood. At first she heard a murmur, but dismissed it
as stray gas. The vestiges of sin will follow you
through every life, and yes, I do regret that hot dog
but I know my heart is stalwart. Birds approach
with tilted heads, unsure what kind of flower
I might throw around their necks. I greet them
with my mouth held open, ready to be born.
A soul is nothing special. Because I sleep through any noise,
they chose me for the bunker. The doctor ran a battery of tests
to test my fortitude, plinking hammers at my knees, eavesdropping
on my blood. At first she heard a murmur, but dismissed it
as stray gas. The vestiges of sin will follow you
through every life, and yes, I do regret that hot dog
but I know my heart is stalwart. Birds approach
with tilted heads, unsure what kind of flower
I might throw around their necks. I greet them
with my mouth held open, ready to be born.