top of page


By Madeline Seavey

  • Instagram
  • Facebook
  • Twitter

The resurrection men

Stare into my open grave


Sweaty hands and muddied fingers

Pry open the door


Dirt falls on rigid body

And dear belongings


Leaving the excavation site

I am exchanged


Midnight cash from clean hands to filthy

The transaction is complete and wheeled inside


Surrounded by light

And iodoform I can’t smell


The pink skin of the masked men

Sterilized and covered in white


I am stripped of dignity

And my burial garments


Incision after incision

I am cut open


My glass eyes reflect nothing

I feel nothing as


White doves, monarch butterflies,

Maggots and backed-up intestines

Escape my stomach

bottom of page