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Amourtician — list and found poetry


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Amourtician (Introduction)



He was mousy. He was dull.

Not stereotypical…



Charm had not graced him,

Grace had not graced him.

Jesus, the luck; God damn the lack of it.


During the peak hours of death

(the off hours of its discovery)

He manned his post

In the icy sub-


Never being spoken to 

nor heeded

By the wall of people

Whom he was paid to beautify--

On occasion, reconstruct.


Not even being

A moledoc,

Who may have surface relationships

With the Beautiful People

As most whose names that

Do not end in daMneD but

MD can…So effortlessly…

Not even given license to 


over patients when

The surface dwellers failed them.

He was just a man

With his job

But all men want.


The most medical thing he did

Was drain their blood

And fill them with the

(after)life liquid.

He absorbed this 

As his work absorbed him.

And it preserved his lifeless body too.


But all men want.

And he was a man--

Even if only in that sense

But I never spoke to him

So I cannot know

If there was more of Man in him

All I was told

By his body, face, eyes

Was that he was 





And, of course, exceedingly wanting.


Amourtician (Body)


How often was he not at his post?

But presumably…


To be sure we would have to associate with

People like him.

Become filthy—reach out and touch them.

And when we are close,

Ask that awkward question.


Do you feel you need a shower?

Take one, read on, take another.

Read more, take many more.


The call came just after his midnight lunch break.

His belly was full


So were his thoughts.

He unlocked the double doors and signed for it.

A package had arrived.

He took charge of the body;

It was now his responsibility.

Routine check: Not a murder, not a donor.

This one was all his

The medical stuff

The makeup

Then the box.

No need for an autopsy…

No need to scar the


Lift the linen

See who it is who will not greet him today.

His jaw moved

to open.

Mouth agape,

Nothing was all he could not say—but his mind-- 

This Is Beauty.

His first thought

Instantly ashamed

His body ran to his regular corner

Collapsed into his seat

And his emotions took over.


His eyes stayed.

And continued to stare

At the face of that body

His eyes drank in what his mind could not bear

“We like!” they said gleefully as he wept in his chair

“Come see! This is Beauty! A change from white hair…”

Indeed she was the first young one to visit him there.


Having privacy aplenty

He need only wrestle 

with what had kept him 


the living women. 

Christ! This one had died,

And still he was shy!

But his eyes gazed on

And soon his body came ‘round.

And he stood 

Staring at that angelic face

Under the brilliant lights

Beauty! This Is Beauty!

Her face—her—

Dare He?

And finally, 

For the first time in his life




Hammered down on his lever

And puck struck high;

The unringabble bell sang loud.

He drew the sheet down

And he stood

Looking upon

The full length

Of this woman’s naked,




And this would be all that happened

Here is where this story would end

But he had to touch her

And he did

And he liked it

And that is why this story continues 


Her body was 



Amourtician (Conclusion)


He cupped her full breast in his cold hand

The flesh warm, but her nipples, erect before his own,

Didn’t seem to mind his cold touch--

His cool touch.

He drew warmth from her body

Through his hand, arm, and into his never-inhabited heart

He invited her to live there.

Where she would stay warm.


He pressed his untrained lips softly against her 

slightly open mouth.

And kissed her

As best he could.

He wanted 

so much 

to please her

He kissed and caressed every inch of her body

As he had been taught

In the articles 

he read.


He pleasured her with his mouth

Never caring if he was

Doing it

The right way

Or not.


Soon she was ready

Moisture collecting



She entered his office

He entered her.

He was starving and unwanted.

She was warm and unresisting.


And she was Beauty.

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