Rites

             Rites

When undertakers take the body, pimp

It up to please its final lover, stretch

Its limbs to that position while still limp

And use mascara and lipstick to etch

A long-time disposition for the lips

To welcome death, do hands attempt to call

Up partners from the past who grabbed her hips?

They do not know about when she was small

And mother watched her in her bath, or when

She watched her son lean over soup she made,

Or peaked at husbands and the other men

In church while virtued, voile-dressed women prayed.

Morticians do not try to see her, pale,

That April morning in her wedding veil.