Post-mortem

So quick was my grief—fickle, 
Almost cruel as I ploughed 
Through the limpness
Without lamenting 
Enough for the burial.

Infidel lover—

My eyes set beyond 
The posies on top of the plastic ossuary. 
My hands savaged through 
A breathless body case—flung wide-open
For the exposure—I paused—

And that was my five-minute mourning.

Dale Chou
2003-05-09