Old Anatomy (Poetry)

I’ve studied my bones
made maps of my flesh
tried to understand
each physical stress
dissected first hand

the circuit of nerves
and analysed blood
old seasalt and sand
the gene-tree that stood
on unsteady land

I’ve traced thinning roots
and learned stranger-names
the causes of death
some witchdoctor claims
stole life breath by breath

Whatever’s passed on
begged, gifted or lent
my skeleton leans
its tower age-bent
this biomachine’s

a product of chance
identity’s trapped
in a four-limbed cage
imperfectly mapped
impossibly vague