Let the Dead Bury the Dead
       

Surely she would want to hear one final song, something from
the Carpathians, something folkloric about flying geese or
curly hair, just to calm her nerves before he laid her to rest. Or
she might ask for a glass of chilled white wine, even though he
never quite learned how to pour it well, forgetting to twist the
bottle, or how to sip it, gazing into her eyes. He would have to
find his domino cuff links, but first he would have to find his
arms. He hadn't needed them for so long. The wind shushed
through where his ribs once curled, a fat robin lodged itself
in the invisible branches that spread where a human heart
once beat. He'd remember not to wear his Adidas maroon
three-stripe sweat suit, the one that made him sweat only if
she saw him and grew angry. This is not the way to seduce me,
her dark stormy eyes would reprimand. Should he bring a
shovel? Could he bear to toss dirt on her remembering that
he didn't particularly like it, the sound like heavy intermittent
rain drumming on the roof of his casket, his friends staring
into the burial vault, wondering what it would be like down
there instead. Would she lie down quietly? He'd remember to
reserve the moon. He'd ask a distracted God not to sweep too
close to the stars. The tall grass would sway in the night breeze
as if nothing had changed. Maybe he wouldn't need to bring
his guitar, just his hands, if, he could remember where he last
placed them. He hoped not to disappoint her with his cup of
cracked black walnuts and a blushed apple unwrapped from a
white lapel handkerchief, luring her into the next world. Any
way, she was still very much alive. Night after night she stood
in front of the bathroom mirror brushing back her filaments
of fine hair. Why couldn't he see her there—spraying clouds of
Paris Eau de Toilette in large continuous circles onto her white
gauze nightgown, hear her reticent sigh.

Tweet

Copyright © 2019 Dzvinia Orlowsky All rights reserved
from Bad Harvest
https://www.cmu.edu/universitypress/
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission