Corps memory

 

She turns towards me while opening the door

— The two cavities under her collarbones,

dark under the scorching lightbulb —

— Her shirt now three sizes too small —

Never have I seen her so frail, so hesitant

— Her angular silhouette penciled on the floor,

unnerving now, even more so later when —

Her lips parting, her voice hoarse and spent

— Her spindly fingers crooked on the handle —

She fades, featherly light, as grief wanes