ON WASHING MY FATHER'S BODY

I see the disappearance of form - shattered grammar of human function dissolve. Coagulated meaning clinging to the logic of body. Sinews stiffened. All striving cinched up in bed sore's stench.

His mouth a ludicrous 'O' ---does he utter hope?

Rend the fabric of existence a slender fold that I might hear necessary secrets of my father's knowing - now swept away by nature's decisive utterance.

I will send him on with gentle force - bending limb to fit the sleeve. This pail can't contain enough to cleanse shame clinging to ludicrous body. Left of sense.

Lifting brittle ribs to bathe the putrifying flesh - cut away the cloth soaked in sweat and puss from the shrinking skin. Can I assemble the shards into a different pattern whence meaning can arise?

And who will deliver epitaph of this gentle man's span - awkward stabs of tenderness, bewildered lunges of affection - to shore up the encroaching darkness?

We shrink at the idiocy of loss. Mourners left without impulse on the shore sing a mosaic of ancient papyrus - slapdash psalms of little consequence.

What could possibly drive the elements - just a quirk of the distant nebulae - fountain of randomness -. oozing creation from quantum fold?

Reaching hands fail to grasp whispered love.

Dank sheets stream in a wind of desire.