Post Mortem By S. A. David

Death speaks:

“You want to understand the origin
And cause of the pathogen
One Two Three Four Five Six
Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve
And you are endorsed; plus five

You paint it white
Providing vital knowing, your defence
How When Why What and Where
All the wh-interrogation
Non-stop, never-ending interrogations

Coroner, medical examiner, Indian chief
Cot deaths, violent, unnatural
Or if suspicion lurks
And then inquest
And the medical research

Cause of death
Strangulation, Accidental, Poison
Undetermined
Unsolved
Case closed, case re-opened and case closed

Seconds to minutes
Minutes to hours
Hours to days
Days to weeks to months
Months to years to centuries
Centuries to millennia to aeons to forever
Mystery unsolved still
Til we get to heaven
Til deoxyribonucleic acid turns blue litmus white

The Y-cuttings
They become specimen
Why not do an X-incision?
Lungs, liver, heart, and the rest
Magicked into theatre’s toys
A violent death, a public event
If my clients could see
They’d uprise

The Stryker saw, a kitchen utensil
The brain scooped out
No, scrambled eggs
Yes, omelette, No, egg sauce
Once a brain

Face shields, scrubs, Polaroid films
You just cut open the bodies
Dog food
Your fingers and brains
Have become scalpel addicts
The scalpel you live for

Scarpetta, Kays
Hill, Tonys
Delaware, Alexes
Knapman, Bens
Have you determined all?

Course you haven’t determined all
On your shortcomings
On your failures
Do a post mortem.”