Cold Storage Unit by Mark Dimaisip

After I died, my heart lived
in another person’s chest

singing to an unfamiliar song
and my lungs went on giving

and receiving air that tastes
a little less livid and weighs

a lot, lot lighter than the old one.
The world is the same

but even my corneas disagreed
—sunlight is now painful

to look at and pitch black
darkness is the most peaceful

thing I could find and my skin,
oh my skin, it now feels a lot

more comfortable in a body
that is not quite its own.

Have I changed? If you swab
all of my remaining pieces

you can read it my DNA:
I still carry the same code.

Putting a man through an ice box
maybe that changes everything.

—maybe the cold can’t preserve us
in the same way that warmth can.




Mark is from the Philippines. He is an HR Professional and a graduate of Ateneo de Manila University. When he is not conducting workshops, managing organizational change, and designing communication plans, he scribbles poetry.