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