The Sword in the Scabbard


everything passes.

Humans, onion skins,

and apple cores are born

cast off

cast out

cast aside,

and in passing through

the turnpikes and elbow joints

of our handmade sewage ways,

or the cervix and labia

of our handmade bodies,

arrive like pachinko balls

slotted in suburbs, city centers,

or prairie towns, naked.

It’s not our reward,

and it’s not our punishment,

this curly-grained lay of the land.

It’s the chance encounter;

it’s the turn of the screw,

a game we’ve made it.

From a donkey born,

a unicorn can grow.

And unicorns can harbor

shriveled beat-less hearts,

just as donkeys can pump

fierce, oxygen-rich dragon blood.

So, whether gutter born or mansion raised,

we all started life inside a pear-shaped organ

between the bladder and the rectum—

our handmade sewage ways—

in a town called Corpus.

K. Shawn Edgar | Life-Like | Intestines Model | Heavier on the Inside


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