They hover around the body
after reading the letter
from the donor.
How much he loved this woman
who bore him three children,
the woman to whom he made love
so often, this body that he loved
and touched even in old age.
Here she is and soon they will bless
the cranium and open it and look
at her brain and remove it
for further gazing
and they look into every part
of this woman, not like voyeurs,
but like lovers touching
and naming and exploring every part
of her. She is nothing like the scary red
pictures in the medical books.
She is the body in its beauty.
The medical student says
he loves this body of an old woman,
and hes not afraid to open it and see
whats in the bones. Hell have to crack
the femur, remove the eyeball, what
made it see? What did it miss? Did
she hear everything her husband
said to her? Did her nose smell?
Did the tongue taste? The hands
to wave, to wave goodbye, the nest
of the soul somewhere singing even
as the body is broken down and looked at
and named and poked at until all is gone
and not gone, all gone and not gone.