DEAD LAB, DAY 2

 

As if peeling old fruit,
I pull the sheet from her face—

uneven teeth, eyes
closed, an earlobe
and its tiny hole

stretched open by years
of an earring’s half ounce.
Up close, it resembles a mouth.

Such a relief she’s a stranger!
Why was I so scared
I might know her?

 

W. Vandoren Wheeler
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