Last Look

by David Cope

the room is silent, empty but
            for the bier. she lies, sheet
draped over her body

            she is so small in death

            the head tilted back, eyelids,
aquiline nose, cupid’s bow lips, skin
            translucent, alabaster

            yet still lovely we are

in tears. my lips touch her
            forehead goodbye cold,
heat & struggle all

            gone in the waiting day.