From Your Husband’s Corpse

There’s a moment
in the rotting
when soul and flesh align,
when feeling and bone coincide,
when the worms slither out
of what I look like
for the banquet table of
what I am.
For just the briefest of times,
how you saw me
will rock in this chair
side by crumbling side
with what I knew I always was.
Recoil from the grisly brain.
Reel at the hideous heart.
Do you love me?
you once asked.
Keep watching.
The answer’s on its way.