What made this shiny, now still, heart once skip a beat?
What made these soft pink lungs inspire—
In awe, breaking through the chest wall, I wonder,
Who else made it past your defenses?
Who was close to your heart?
Muscle fibers criss cross your cheeks and orbit your orbitals:
What small joys gently lifted your cheeks
and creased the corners of your eyes?
For all the cartilage and vessels that emerge from your throat, I will
not know
the timbre of your voice, the sound of your laugh.
With one hand I support your elbow, with the other
I hold your hand, cool and dry.
What other hand rested in yours? Whose arm did you support?
For unknown decades, this body stood strong and tall,
these eyes took in the world. These legs
sank tired hips into a recliner, this barrel chest released heavy sighs.
On the table you lie in final supine rest.
I trace and name your nerves. What pleasure and pain did they
carry?
I see your brain. Where is your mind?
I hold your heart. What were its secrets?
I must have inhaled flecks of your bone
When we cut apart your shoulder. You are now lodged in my chest,
I carry you with me.