The Autopsy

 In a back room a man is performing an autopsy 
on an old raincoat.
 His wife appears in the doorway with a candle 
and asks, how does it go?
 Not now, not now, I'm just getting to the lining, 
he murmurs with impatience.
 I just wanted to know if you found any blood clots?
 Blood clots?!
 For my necklace . . .

Form: Free verse Comments

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Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace