parenchyma.

[fleur_de_soleil]

 take a crooked sixpence, walk a crooked mile;

our lady of formaldehyde is trapped,
like a dried out mouse in her mousetrap bones;
trapped by her rib
cage, poured molten once
into the chalky S or her spine,
correction line drawn due east of her
geographical centre.

--

snap the great vessels
into the hilum and we're pulling,
tendons flexed on lori's arm as she braces against the steel table
suddenly, a dripping, breathless baby,
free.
a sand struck by lightning monstrosity, 
anteriorly stark white.

--

[luckily, nobody saw,]
i retched as we slipped them back, closed their prison doors shut
fit the last missing rib in, like a puzzle piece,
closed the orange tarpaulin and left.

--

my lady of formaldehyde, you will be free
when they burn you, when the heat springs your mousetrap bones wide, wide open,
my lady, 
you will be free.