Postmortem – by Devanshi Khetarpal

by TBLM

Postmortem

Listen: imagine your
body next to mine.
Think of the knife
that drew my thin spine

open. I am in a room
so cold and lonely
like the slow negative
of a stone breaking

into water. One evening
I asked you how to die
this slow: smooth, bent
along the edges of my grave.

Almost losing my way back home.

***