It's Still Life

Sliced

You’re so random,
like an accident
or a scar,
like when you blurted out

I don’t understand
pickled cows sliced in half.
Poor beast.
It’s been Hirst’ed.
Damien’ed.
Like that canvas
of dead black flies,
or framed shells
and cigarettes.

I mean — bite me

for dVerse: Quadrille #22 “Scar” – 44 words in total