Science Fiction Saint

Fragments from a reluctant suburbian

Bad Hair Day

Tuesday, October 10, 2006 11:30 pm

That coroner fucked with your hair
clearly style is not meant to interfere with the efficacy of dissection
and I suppose the angle of your neck could not have been helped
it’s not as though pretty would have solved the problem of your being lifeless

On television the dead are so full of life
but you, cold, odd and stuffed into a box, were not
you, in the condition and quality of being deceased, were barely recognizable
the right size but the wrong shape

Today I loaded your boxes into the car
the material verification that you were walking and breathing
that you fought and lied and
that you hated yourself with such a vehemence

This stuff of your life has left me weak with disappointment
now it will become the good bargain of someone else’s good day
I am keeping your hair cream

Filed under: Poesy
Posted By: NJ Cullen