Thursdays in BSB

Architecturally speaking, Bowen
Science Building was made for someone
with a bird’s eye view.

This limits sentient admirers
to God, or merely
the very clever.

But, beyond its alleged design
(made, apparently, to look
like a coil of DNA spliced
from the short bus), BSB
is a building like any other.

In fact, many universities have
such buildings: ugly, unassuming,
but housing within their depths on some
forsaken floor, behind two sets
of locked doors:
bodies.

Human cadavers.

Here they lay, patient and prim; littered
around the large room like many
shrouded pieces of furniture, high gurneys
wrapped in white and plastic; perhaps little more
than sets of fashionable settees left
in an empty house to which someone,
someday, will return.


first part of a poem I have yet to finish. 

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