we found each other’s bodies

in a pile of bodies

writhing and squirming for the light

 

you were pulling petals off flowers

I was teaching young children how to swear

and in that moment of passion

such beauty, such surprise

that you would come over to my side,

 

we appeared preserved

as in a woodcut in Death’s private study

 

where his desk was carved

with gargoyle heads and real heads

all open-mouthed and stretched

and I’ve never seen so many names on lists

and even he couldn’t stop all of the light

coming through the blinds,

 

although I knew it was you,

 

and the saddest place to sit

is on a kitchen floor

not knowing what words to think