Andrew Demcak

The mouth's "O" gape gulping air. A stuck pig,
belly undone, whose eyes stare. Now they are
numbered, loose in their amber fluids.

Only a woman could divine these shapes,
intact, pickled lungs and the almost hairs.
Ungrown buds of limbs, the odd distinctions:

palms that won't open, the bulging fingers.
Hygienic foreheads are surely missed.
Contraception, the cold diagnosis.