Body Bomb

There lies a corpse with a seam down his stomach; stitched together like a rag doll.
He used to sell DVD’s to passing American soldiers;

“Hey man, I do you great deal, two for ten, great deal for gentlemen?”

 There lies a  corpse in the basement with a seam down his stomach,
mechanized organs and his eyes are still open.
His body a bag for electrical destruction, his chest serving the function -
To kill, and destroy.

The team of soldiers pile in steady and surround the mortuary table in line.
 The soldier to the rear heaves and turns to leave, choking on the stench of stale air.

“Oh, fuck.”
“Jeez, this could be somebody’s son!”
“Shit.”
“Step back”
“It’s a body bomb.”

Tense silence. Nervous feet begin to shuffle.
The EOD steps forward and orders evacuation.
Duffle bag ready he crosses his hand over his chest in crucifixal motion,
before taking the wire cutters and with the thought of promotion,
he takes the blade to the first stitch.

Snip. Snip. Snip.

A buzzing fly lands upon the corpse’s open eyelid,
rubbing its feet together eagerly
The soldier blinks and takes the blade to the next stitch immediately.

Snip. Snip. Snip.

Snip.

Guilt trip, this kid looks twelve.
The chrome box stained with rusty brown paint;
wires protruding like snakes from the head of Medusa. Concentration to de-wire.
Globules of sweat form across warm heat of his steaming head.
 The putrid smell of mixed metal malodorous flesh. Retching through  fierce focus.
He wipes his brow and disallows distraction of the length’s the enemy go
to conceal a bomb and with shaking palms
disarms the device; risking his life to cut
The right wire.

He steps back and surveys the boy on the table, glad he disabled
the remains. A quick message on the radio wire static, “Clear!”
There lies a corpse with a seam down his stomach;
Stitches wide open like an experimented rag doll.