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IN THE PATHOLOGY MUSEUM

By Simon Ó Conchúir



Oh if you’d only slice me open

Divine vivisection

Searching now with surgeon’s hand

For my source of life’s great tension.

 

Go ahead, rip into me

It’s too hard for me to care

I won’t resist as you gnash your teeth

And rip and pull and tear.

 

There's nothing more that I can give

This is as far as I can go

So go ahead and break me

And suck the marrow from my bones.

 

If it pleases you to bite my tongue

Then rip it from me whole

But listen as it lolls about

For my secrets yet untold.

 

What will you do in the end

Leave me out for hungry dogs

Or mount me like a scarecrow

To imitate the man I was?

 

Maybe you'll put me on the mantle

In a nicely gilded urn,

Or dump me out, I've no control

Over what you do with who you burn.


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