I Danced With A Corpse

and her breath
was beyond laboured

slippage had ruined
her perfect skin.

I thought

Opera Gloves!
Remove Them.

Her stench defied
shit, piss, puke and disinfectant

Ah!

I am reminded of those suitors' stale gifts:

long-stemmed virginal roses.

I invite you to visit my garden each spring:

peppered with the ashes of my beloved;
it is viable;

it dances.