Body Bag
       

What are you if not a better skin?
a symbol for what's kept
within folds of sterile plastic:
coiled, cinched tight
as a blindfold around muscles
and a skeleton—Nothing flinches,
nothing turns inside
your barren walls. Impervious
purse, what kicks against
your stomach never stirs
from within: the clock of bones
in my intricate hands
or some ligature of wind
will brush against your surface
and send you rippling
into the sound of static. Black
gown, what you hold
was once exquisite: Be dark
enough to keep my eyes
from seeing what's inside.

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Copyright © 2020 Brandon Courtney All rights reserved
from This, Sisyphus
YesYes Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission