At The Disposal Poem by Miroslava Odalovic

you've got a chalk-write

you've got autumn fingers-
let them spark like flamelets of the words
across the keyboards surf virtual waves

you've got eyes - see across the lines
weaving the webs of time

you've got feet-stand up
forget about the knees

you've got this
incredibly
intrinsically
intuitively
creatured mind-
think feel sense
it's unbelievable

you've got everything, for Your sake
why are you still dead?