Nick Capozzoli
10-25-2013, 12:47 AM
Here's another "medical poem" for Lit Net consideration:
To an Anatomical Model
Museo Spallanzani, Reggio nell’Emilia, Italy
Your arms, dear boy, reach out to cup
The hollow where the anatomist
Dug out your organs after death,
Then lacquered you and stood you up.
In this glass case your leather dried
As your playmates and your doctor died;
They soften slowly under stones
Whose images the rain hones
To smooth at last. I wonder then
On Doomsday’s final hour when
All their dust shall rise and cling
Like fabric, forming double wing
To shoot the void and read His book
And bear the scrutiny of His eyes.
Will he merely read their look
As I do yours, and then surmise
What it was that drove the dust
That once partook of love or lust,
Or softer yet, some sweet intent,
Your face still polished, innocent?
Occasion of the poem=my seeing of this anatomical model in a museum.
To an Anatomical Model
Museo Spallanzani, Reggio nell’Emilia, Italy
Your arms, dear boy, reach out to cup
The hollow where the anatomist
Dug out your organs after death,
Then lacquered you and stood you up.
In this glass case your leather dried
As your playmates and your doctor died;
They soften slowly under stones
Whose images the rain hones
To smooth at last. I wonder then
On Doomsday’s final hour when
All their dust shall rise and cling
Like fabric, forming double wing
To shoot the void and read His book
And bear the scrutiny of His eyes.
Will he merely read their look
As I do yours, and then surmise
What it was that drove the dust
That once partook of love or lust,
Or softer yet, some sweet intent,
Your face still polished, innocent?
Occasion of the poem=my seeing of this anatomical model in a museum.