By Elyssa Tappero
When I die and am autopsied
they’ll find your fingernail gouges on the inside of my skin
the desperate clawing of someone buried alive.
The medical examiner will call in doctors and forensic analysts
have you ever seen anything like this?
but they will not be able to explain it.
There will be hushed conversations with my family and friends
but they will merely shake their heads
who knows; she was crazy.
And since I will not be there to explain
I’m a sarcophagus, a coffin, a cage, don’t you see?
I will go down as just another medical oddity and
the truth of your imprisonment will be lost for good.
Believe me, though –
if digging from the outside in could free you
I would meet you halfway through my meat
with torn and bloody nails.