Alexa For Australia wrote:

Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypress let me be laid; Fly away, fly away breath; I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, O, prepare it! My part of death, no one so true Did share it. Not a flower, not a flower sweet On my black coffin let there be strown; Not a friend, not a friend greet My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown: A thousand thousand sighs to save, Lay me, O, where Sad true lover never find my grave, To weep there! Twelfth Night. Alexa

white frozen reality

early this morning immediately behind the departure of my daughter to school
I carefully packed my best friend into the trunk of my car
and the body had whitened
and lost all colour
and softness was gone
and dullness covered the dismembered limbs
and even the breast was hard
and all was cold to touch
and there was a fragility that life can not convey
and I felt as though the leg would snap if I dropped it
and I was so careful
and my accomplice was nervous
and the bits were breaking
and I carefully
and quietly drove the white hearse down
and down the steep decent into reality
and the frozen white hand on the seat beside me acknowledged my fear
and I was careful to be quiet
and smooth
and slow
and I descended further into cautious reality
where the family car was driven to school
with the inverse body of the best friend she lovingly froze in plaster