Cadaver us


Body Works exhibit, Franklin Institute, Philadelphia, circa 2005

In the peripheral vision of  my soul
they gawk at my plasticized muscles
as if I’m some frozen sideshow ghoul.
 
They don’t see my spiritual tussles,
they don’t see who I really was.
All they see is bone and sinew
 
stretched and contorted in the cause
of science, sacrificing a nameless few
to this plexiglass purgatory on display,
 
stripped of our former humanity
until our naked novelty begins to fray.
Then, at last, we’ll recover some dignity
 
hidden in shipping crates where, we trust,
we'll crumble slowly into dust.

Eric Chiles

If you have any comments on this poem, Eric Chiles   would be pleased to hear from you.