Am I
the cat in a box
both dead
and alive?
until deemed
to be
or not to be
that
or this.
Dead cells lie latently on my flesh
late hopes die decaying in my emotion
the Nobel Prize for medicine was awarded to John B. Gurdon and Shinya Yamanaka for
the discovery that mature cells can be reprogrammed to become pluripotent
Unaware of the dust—70% human skin—
settling, stirring, inhaled into my lungs.
But so tuned to the desires—70% human skin—
slowly melting from ‘goal’ to fantasy.
Out of sight, out of mind.
(I’m falling out of my mind, I’ll vanish from your sight)
Like the cat in the box
clinging desperately to some semblance of
life
until someone
actually alive or more alive
comes to proclaim
death.
(by this logic, is the first one on the
scene a murderer?)
((metaphor need not follow logic))
(((the grace of the mighty pen)))
I am the cat
waiting in a purgatorial box
waiting
for you