An Autopsy Poem by Anil Kumar Panda

An Autopsy



His body is laid on the table
Slowly and with care
As if he is alive

The white shroud is
Pulled away revealing
The half rotten carcass
Eyes are open staring at the roof
As if looking for its soul

And the doctor arrived
Wearing a worried face
And clean apron

It is matter of a few minutes
Outside they wait
Money in hands and pockets
To carry away the dead
To a lonely place for the crows

Sunday, September 20, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: death
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Varsha M 20 September 2020

Well described autopsy scene. Scary.

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