Black Handkerchief

Lying on the table, 
he was as handsome 
as the day he had taken her 
through the veil. 

Now his body was inert, 
his anger veiled even in death. 

She looked at his nakedness 
one last time before the high priests 
dressed the body. 

After the garments, robe, and 
sash, after the bright-leaved apron 
and the stiff white cap, 
she asked the bishop 

for a few minutes alone with the man 
she had been sealed to for time 
and all eternity. She did not 

kiss him as she intended, 
but looked one last time 
at his rigid face, then, slipping 
the black lace handkerchief from her sleeve,
she placed it over his face and quietly 
closed the casket.