The medical diction of his autopsy report:

Cold. Sterile. Staccato terminology.
Reeking of worn lab coats,
Oily stethoscopes and
Yellowed patient charts.

Words like ‘toxicity’
and ‘incision’
and ‘extremities’
and ‘identifying marks’
echo in my mind.
A meager attempt to make
Sense of the senseless.

The large clock on the wall
Goes on ticking,

ticking,

ticking…

A monotonous reminder—
Moments creep on
Behind the thick shrouded glass
That covers its face
Like the loose fitting sheet
That formed his final profile.

Life—entirely fragile.
The translucent paper sheathing
Rolled out like some delicate red carpet
where person,
after person,
after person,
after person,
after person

lie still.

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Editor: Catherine Monkman

Photo: elephant archives