Dead Meat
William Duffin
Poetry
Students gather round
A hollow cave of flesh,
Contorted on sterile steel table.
Head turned to one side,
As though in protest at being
Picked at and poked;
Touched only by probing fingers
Through films of sweating plastic.
A hollow cave of flesh,
Contorted on sterile steel table.
Head turned to one side,
As though in protest at being
Picked at and poked;
Touched only by probing fingers
Through films of sweating plastic.
Somewhere on that face,
A mouth hangs lambently open,
Beneath shrivelled nostrils,
And those dry, lightning blue eyes.
A shell once gorged with the laughter
Of Summers in France,
Boat rides, Picnics and Birthday parties;
Silently rots with each passing hour.
We flock to the body as flies do
When meat is left out on a plate.
I also feel there is a general lack of respect for the cadavers. The depiction of the medical students (flies) eating away the integrity of the person that body belongs to reflects my attitudes.