When unidentified remains are relinquished to our care
That are so decayed and liquefied as to make diagnosis

quite a chore
When the putrescent canvas of death is teeming with
bristling life
With tiny anthropoid stowaways nestled in every pore...
My autopsy technicians mistake the corpse shudder for
a cadaveric spasm
But upon closer inspection they witness the nauseating
wave of insect activity
The feasting and chatter drowns the neon hum from the
morgue lamps and