For Disposal Purposes
For disposal purposes,
one alley was as good as another,
the slightly nauseating smell
of rotting meat,
it was the last day of July,
and it was in an awful heat,
there was a young black woman,
walking across that street,
blocking out the sun,
with a urine stained sheet,
silently ignoring the dead child,
that she almost kicked with her feet,
she mumbled words
as if she were praying,
the child’s flesh continued decaying.
she could hear the organs pop,
it was an alley drop,
as the child’s ghost cries,
the body fluids and blood boils,
and that was too hot for the flies.
© 2012 Frank Atanacio
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