Transmutation

Standing in the shower

waiting for the water to wash

the flesh away. Wanting

to shed what bleeds, slip

free the slough of desire.

Heart let loose from its cage

to spiral wetly away with

the lungs and liver and

stomach and bladder.

Intestines coiling around

slithering like some worm.

All sliding out and down

piling up, an autopsy.

Vacant skin still floating

rippling with the rising water

empty eyeholes staring.

Emerging pure and purged

spindly white fingers grab

like stainless steel clamps

fold fallen flesh

and tuck it away somewhere

in a bottom drawer

beneath the clothes of winter.