I often wonder what happened
to my mother’s molecules
after we dumped her ashes
into the Oceanside Harbor
He was a tall man, somewhat morose, it seemed to me. His smile did not break out easily, but when it did, it changed his face from dark to light, like the snow crystals suddenly bathed in morning sunlight on Sheep’s Pasture at the Cataloochie Ranch.
The last year before her body was done on earth,
in the study she looked big-eyed, hollowed cheeked,
flashing hands, finger pointed saying, “I hate the pity
These days I can’t think of my husband’s eyes without the veil of blood over my own. Those days I straddled my sanity and the dead bodies of countless bastard children.
I am alone in this house of death. The bright track lighting overhead does nothing to push back the gloom. Somewhere near me, sharp surgical tools cut into white, bloodless flesh. Faceless machines suck organs and fluids from open body cavities.