Only The Wind

They laid her out on a plastic sheet

Where she stared unseeingly,

With nothing to cover her naked form

When they said, ‘Come in and see.’

I thought how she would be mortified

To be naked under their gaze,

But she was laid in the mortuary

For this was her end of  days.

That final humiliation is saved

To be served at the end of life,

They saw her just as an empty shell,

But I, as my loving wife.

She still looked stunning, and had the form

That would peak any man’s desire,

But all of life had been ripped and torn

Before she entered the fire.

They’d taken her kidneys, liver too,

And had left some ugly scars,

But her gorgeous breasts, and that little nest

Were left, for they had been ours.

I’d not have shared her with anyone,

We’d sucked at each other’s breath,

But she had signed for her organs, so

I had to share her with death.

I heard the crackle of flames behind

The grim steel plate of the door,

That they would open, and thrust her in

Just like a victim of war,

The horror tales of the holocaust

Came flitting across my brain,

That final test that would scorch the flesh

And all I could feel was pain.

She’s sitting up on the mantlepiece

In an urn of marble and stone,

A red ribbon sash, surrounding her ash,

I couldn’t leave her alone.

I hear her sigh in the early hours

As she did, whenever we sinned,

And wander around our lonely house,

Perhaps, it’s only the wind.

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Einstein Noodle]

oh dear poet! what an exquisite read says i! stunning image making .. deeply poignant and emotive for me ... damn! stark reality ...more than keeping it real sir! thanks for sharing ...tho i do glimpse that sense of humor you own ..this is the most serious of your poems i have read ..and what a keeper it is :((
E.