Lily Cotard

She dresses in finest Sunday satin, black and clean.
She has white silk ribbons tied up in raven tresses.
“Bury me” She says.
The cemetery, bright in a spring sun, is growing green.
She waits in her finery, a strange star in her blue eyes.
“Bury me.” She says.
“I am empty of blood and organs. I am empty of light.”
“I wears these flowery perfumes to please you, for cover.”
“Bury me” She says.
I touch her cheek, so warm and blushing, I give my best smile.
“I can see the stars in your eyes and the sun in your pretty face”
“I won’t bury you.” I say.
She sighs, weary, and sits on a marble stone with a mourning angel.
“I am gone. I am gone” She says. “I want to be put in my grave.”
“Bury me.” She says.
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