Aseptic Tragedies

Aseptic Tragedies

On occasions I am

reminded of its flavor

and as a bile duct, serving

merely as a vessel

of transmission

I convey

The idea of the blade

surgically

cutting tissues

The touch of hands

against

the rugged wall

The flavor of blood

deluging

from within

and still the feeling

of live flesh -

mesmerizing images

(everywhere)

As I said, only on

occasions – maybe

there's no proper composition

to describe it -

they become so harshly plural

arrogantly sick

standing full of them selves

like waves

engulfing the sea

pretending to believe

their heart – a germ-free

empty room -

will hold the sparkling

truth

But then, I see

the shrinking of human

qualities

into debris like

elements – a sculpture of once

living things

dying

for life

And all that nonsense while

waving at each other

goodbyes; looking ahead

it wouldn't defy any

ethics

to wash my wrath

anew with

blood.

© 2016, José Coelho