ORGANIC DEATH
HENRYS MARKETPLACE
CHULA VISTA


A new year of work
Pushing Ron Cohn’s
Cadavers on dirty carts

Is blood as usual
My joint does not hurt
Yet it feels tight
In a bizarre way

I am blissful to see
The foundations
Being built with
Straight lines

It was cold in the freezer
Death is cold
Morgues are cold
I work amongst the dead

Dead fish
Dead meat
Dead buyers
Dead sellers

Hope never died
That beautiful girl
Survived because

The fire in the pupils
Of the sun—eyed people
Is better than
And electric blanket