Her body was clean
which is what we hoped for.
She had told me if you can claim
just one hole, then claim your mouth.
A near nine years later
I see two women huddled, talking.
It had made me think of her
exhausted, hunched behind the steering wheel.
Neither of us moved to open a door. She had told me
even these bodies are borrowed.
I looked at her arms flowered
purples and greens
like spring irises erupting
from the half-thawed ground
& when it came time, I didn’t want to look
at her, still fluids
I’ve seen dead bodies before
& the twins had flown down to wash her.
They said there were no bruises
but she had told me it
forms in all bodies
a sense, the sun too hard
on the skin, of doubt.