Clothes cover ripped skin, hide broken bones,
Wax fills in his face, irreparably smashed.
Glue holds his eyes and mouth tightly closed,
in excess, dry and crystallized on eyelashes.

Why couldn’t we have gathered around the car,
the body left inside in the way that he died
and have see the truth of the end of a life,
instead of this morbid, disgusting disguise?

Or nothing at all, no memorial,
his name never mentioned again.
As if he could show up again, someday,
and it would not have been then end.

Luciana, 31