The Autopsy in  General   

In a back room a man is performing an autopsy
on an old raincoat.
His wife appears in the doorway with a candle
and asks, how does it go?
Not now, not now, I'm just getting to the lining,
he murmurs with impatience.
I just wanted to know if you found any blood clots?
Blood clots?!
For my necklace . . .

By Russell Edson

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Other poems by Russell Edson:

• A Historical Breakfast
• A Journey Through The Moonlight
• A Performance At Hog Theater
• Accidents
• Angels
• Antimatter
• Ape
• Ape And Coffee
• Conjugal
• Counting Sheep
• Elephant Dormitory
• Erasing Amyloo
• Grass
• Hands
• Mr. Brain
• On The Eating Of Mice
• One Lonely Afternoon
• Paying The Captain
• Sleep
• Soup Song
• The Alfresco Moment
• The Autopsy
• The Breast
• The Bridge
• The Changeling
• The Closet
• The Death Of A Fly
• The Fall
• The Family Monkey
• The Father Of Toads
• The Fight
• The Floor
• The Gentlemen In The Meadow
• The Having To Love Something Else
• The Lighted Window
• The Man Rock
• The Marionettes Of Distant Masters
• The Melting
• The Ox
• The Pattern
• The Philosophers
• The Pilot
• The Position
• The Reason Why The Closet-Man Is Never Sad
• The Road
• The Sad Message
• The Theory
• The Toy-Maker
• The Tree
• The Wounded Breakfast
• Vomit
• You