I set her with a camellia by Stella Warden

There was a dead bird today.

A hushed wave of people came through the doors.

It was six clicks, though I believe I miscounted.

I searched the pockets of my windbreaker for napkins

And left my post to pay her the respect of

Saving her corpse from further becoming a spectacle.

The sky fell dark shortly after.

The floor-to-ceiling windows that are

Brushed with finches and bluebird wings,

Let the violet light pour in as we ushered the last visitors out.

I put up my radio and passed out goodnight’s.

Two wrinkled white sheets sank with her imprint

By the time my shift was over.

I stroked the neck of a dead bird today.

I led a lost dog home.

His owner swatted him past the gates.

My dad agreed that some people just don’t deserve animals.

My hands glistened with hand sanitizer in the car

From the bright of streetlights.

In the parking lot, my dad hugged me

Though he didn’t know why I was crying.

I stopped in my tracks

And just let the tears fall.

Holding a dead body reminded me of losing an old friend.

Death has a heaviness that comforts and pulls out tears.

I somehow enjoy the weight of it on my chest.

Like phantom waves washing over you on the way home, after

Becoming one with the water at the beach.

It is humbling to feel

The impact of someone else’s life,

How it turns in your palms.

Its soul ever-present;

Perhaps even more than when it moved.