2 December 2003 | Vol. 3, No. 4
Unveiling the Mummy
See the hand: root-like and hooked.
Notched knuckles, scars traveling
veneer of brown skin. See how it crowds
the skull, pushing inward, depraved,
nails at a grotesque length, sweep
of drama evident in its clenching.
The mouth, then: agape but swaddled.
The peeling silks, strips of cloth
that fall away like laundry lint
between scientific fingers.
See the scientific fingers: anonymous
in their surgical gloves—chipped polish, childhood
scars, gnawed discs of fingernails, all masked.
See the scientists' mouths duplicate
the o-shape of the mummy, discovery
versus agony. It only takes days
for hands bound in thin sleeves of latex
to scrape aside the centuries
until a silent form with matted hair
and crumbled heart appears.
They christen her with a modern name
to prove she belongs to them.
About the author:
Theresa Boyar's poems and essays have appeared or are forthcoming in Rattle, the Adirondack Review, Small Spiral Notebook, Eclectica, the Florida Review, Pierian Springs, Stirring, and Slow Trains. She lives with her husband and two sons in Helena, Montana, where she is currently working on a collection of short stories. She can be reached at boyar4@aol.com.
For further reading:
See the complete list of work by Theresa Boyar at 42opus. Browse the contents of 42opus Vol. 3, No. 4, where "Unveiling the Mummy" ran on December 2, 2003. List other work with these same labels: poetry.
