Dr. Savage Street

Dr. Savage Street

What an appropriate name

Was the morgue first or the street name

Was Dr Savage a butcher?

 

Entering the morgue

Sadness hang in the air like fog

The floor made of the tears of loved ones

Employees avoiding eye contact

 

The honour to identify my father’s corpse bestowed on me

An honour I did not request

A rite of passage?

A reward for my sins?

 

Standing at the window

Unsure what to expect

All instincts begging me to run

My legs frozen

 

A gurney rolls in

A figure covered with a blue sheet

The figure so small

Surly not my father?

 

The blue sheet pulled away

Revealing a deadly pale blue face

The colour of death

No incline of life

 

Teeth exposed as the cold shrunken the lips

Never before had I noticed the skew teeth

Eyes squinting at me

Once brown, now dead grey

 

Somebody confirms it’s my father’s corpse

The voice unknown to me

Realising it’s me

My mind excluded from the event

 

All memories deleted from my mind

Never to remember him as a living person

Replaced by the image of a corpse

Burned into my mind for an eternity