TUESDAY: Inner Scaffolding

BY DIANNE KORCHYNSKI

Copyright is held by the author.

It is said in Tibet
That when the high lamas, the realized ones
Pass away
You can find in their ashes
Special precious stones
Not bones: relics.

I worry about it,
What will be left behind
When the rest of me melts
Into earth
What to do
With my non-compostables?
Not just the everyday fillings
But the wires holding my teeth together
Or keeping them apart
The stent – plastic? aluminum? titanium?
That keeps that artery open in my heart.

When the rest of me is gone –
And what of the rest of you?
Your pacemakers, chemo feeder tubes,
Replacement hips, knees, shoulders
God knows what implants
All a heap of unrecyclable rubble
No relics to be found here
Found, enshrined, taken on tour

See you at the dump
My friends

Post a comment

You may use the following HTML:
<a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>