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Frost eyes stare
into the layers
and layers underneath.
Rotate, adjust, rotate, adjust.
some eyes are made
to look at what’s under
miscroscopes
and see the dinosaur-old cells
within barely human
humans.
Cold hands always
gloved blue or white or green.
Scrape, cut, scrape, cut.
Some hands touch
the insides, even graze
the silver linings
of a purpling heart.
Soft ears finding
beats in between too-long
seconds.
Thud, silence, thud, silence.
Some ears hear
the scarcely audible breathing
of the lungs
and are made
to listen
to a harsh high-pitched sound
that will resonate
through the thick walls
of death and life
when the time comes.
