Someone's recently deceased aunt
laid out on her back motionless
upon the stainless steel table.
She was still wearing her
old dirty household apron.
Her lids slightly opened
revealed the crescent whites
of her unstaring eyes.
A portion of her wrinkled
upper lip had snagged
upon a yellowed tooth.
I strapped on latex gloves
and touched, prodded
and rubbed the cool
blemished skin of her face.
I stroked her numb forehead
with my fingers and thumb
as if to massage her awake.
I played with one eyelid,
and then I pulled both
of them back up
revealing perfect eyes
staring at nothing, so
I released the lids from
under my thumb tips
and watched as they
lowered slowly down
to being not quite shut again
as if to keep just a sliver
of a glimpse on us here
in the world from behind
the end of her
long dark tunnel.
While I stood in silence
under fluorescent light
after some contemplation
I found it hard to believe
such perfect eyes
could remain sightless.
For one moment,
I considered taking
her hand in mine.
When I did, I wasn't surprised
there was no static shock
but I was comforted
