Paper Dolls

To some it might

have seemed vulgar

or degrading that

he was naked

but for a wrinkled sheet.

Straight as candles,

his legs exposed

the eroding candelabrum

that was his body.

As directed,

no priest was present,

so when his mouth,

chapped and bleeding,

locked on a breath

we believed was the last,

the other of us

ran wailing down

the long blue corridor

for a nurse,

who came to us

as Demeter had

to the frozen earth.

On the windowsill,

red tulips

stopped their grieving

as we kissed

what remained

goodbye

in a scene

at first holy,

then lurid,

as something stirred

beneath the sheet.

On the night table,

paper dolls cut

like shackled lions

roared at his entrance.