Place Card

The first step into the

Cold cadaveric laboratory

The first whiff of formaldehyde

That seems to permeate the walls

The first moment when the shiny zipper is pulled

To reveal what is hidden beneath

The first cut through skin

Into fat, fascia, and finally, muscle

The first surge of guilt

At the sacrifice of another

The first feeling of gratitude

Towards a complete stranger

There lies a place card

Mounted against a rusting metallic stand

With words printed on a purple, laminated sheet

They tell me what is left of you

Age. Sex. Cause of death.

But your body tells an even greater story

Of pain, surgical scars

Of adventures, tattoos

Of joy, laugh lines

Of hard work, calluses

Of life, childbirth

In you, I see a collection of firsts too