When I die, will I become a science experiment?
Will my bleached bones spare evidence to our electronic lives?
Will I be studied with close inspection?
Perhaps the scars on my radius, ulna and humerous are deeper than I thought,
shining a light on a past trauma to the scientific eye.
Will my hair still grip to my skull? Showing a future so far ahead all the shit we do for beauty.
Bleaching hair, waxing eyebrows, tanning skin, is it all worth it?
Will I ever be found? One body out of a thousand, buried in a graveyard so big the numbers become jumbled and forgotten.
When I die, will I leave behind anything at all?
YOU ARE READING
Poetica Vol. 02
PoetryI still find it hard to sleep, am I too hungry and need to eat? I lay here, tossing and turning. What is my heart yearning? I switch on the light and begin to write, perhaps words will put me to sleep tonight... [More original poems by me]
