The Death Watch

Do you know
what it is to place
your hand on the flesh
of the dead?

Dead.

Gone -
not ten minutes
and flesh begins to cool,
to dry before your eyes;
becoming rougher - not scaled,
not smooth - just
rougher
somehow.

And if you know
these things, do you know
the complete finality
which strips any momentary
delusions of escape?
Of pretending it never
happened?

The resting
of the living hand
upon the dead
brow -

slowly
slipping
down over
forehead -
over eyes - sealing
the curtain of sight
forever.

This act - out of all acts -
makes a living death
real, undeniable
for the sliding hand - knowing
you will never escape
because you closed
her eyes on this world
for the last time - you.

You.

One she brought
to this world. You. One
who brought her out. You.
You can not pretend
that never happened. You.
You can not escape that. You.
You do not get
to forget.

The Death
Watch.

_{(KKV :: 10-27-2010 @ 6:56 AM)}