Autopsy Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Autopsy

Ignored and abandoned,
My table hosts corpses,
An autopsy is required…

In their way and manner,
The dead are wanderers.

But my main interest,
Is becoming a master,
Taxidermy, an expert.

Want to keep the skin,
Not the bone, nor the meat,
Then behave like artists,
Giving them form or shape.

The three leaves I have,
Are maples with fingers.

Saw them fall in the air,
Fresh, had lovely colors.

Now they are delicate,
Soft, very intricate…

And I am too afraid,
To pick or to touch them,
They can turn to powder.

Keep looking, am amazed,
About their life and death,
Feel goosebumps, I stare,
Bite my lips and wonder:
"What were they? "
"What are they? "

Easily can answer:
"Were alive; now are dead! "

But am not satisfied,
Want to think, go further! ! !