morgue’s perspective
I did not choose to be a hotel for the dead
the witness to the grotesque aftermath
of car accidents, murders, and heart attacks
cadavers covered in bandages come to visit the coroner
the corpses hide in my frigid walls
pull them out and take a look
they are just figures, fragments, shapes
of a lifetime that has ended
they examine, find the cause of death
but not the butterfly effect
that led to all of this
they find out the caliber
it was a revolver
the whole thing was truly a massacre
you should've seen it
I didn't
the souls that lived in these cages
are in oblivion or heaven
wherever we go after this
there are untold stories decaying
some written in a eulogy
that I won't hear
they speak in only murmurs here
the crowded space is vacant
opposite of many others, or so I am told
the widows, the lovers, the daughters
childhood friends, detectives, pallbearers
think of me as the end
something bitter, horrific, morbid
but I am the beginning of the postmortem
the layover between now and later
it's human nature, such is birth, such is death
nothing I say is unknown
one thing about your fate is certain
you will come here for you final vacation
before your remains become skeleton
the people come and mourn
at a funeral for you
it is like a birthday
they talk sweetly
like you were holy, like you were somebody's muse
their heads are clouded by nostalgia
when they think about you
they tiptoe through memories of the bad things you did
only talk about your beauty, your rosy cheeks
parts of you I do not see
to me, you are another guest in my home
uninvited, but you will not overstay your welcome
into the ground or the fire you go
I do not mean to be the harbinger
nor the orator of tragedy
I am sorry for my cold demeanor
but all I see
is the post-calamity damage
all the casualties
it's nothing cinematic
but I hold a certain gravitas
still, I am desensitized
body bags look like handbags or shopping bags
the lamentations sound like lullabies and showtunes
the dagger is already in the heart upon arrival
the weary-eyed come next
I do not see the happy
I am the place of death