Wedding Flower

Her body was cold, nearly 
frigid in the room 
set aside for such matters. 

He watched them thread 
her arms and legs through 
the sacred undergarment with its 
embroidered symbols. 

The robe, yellowing from disuse, was next, 
followed by the apron, its green leaves 
darkened around the edges, 
and then the sash, slightly soiled, 
which the sisters tied neatly at her waist 
in a big bow. 

After the viewing, when the sisters 
had placed the cap on her head and 
pulled the veil over her face, and everyone 
had retreated to the chapel, he stood alone 
looking at her face one last time. 

Just before he closed the casket, 
he took the flat black flower 
he had found pressed in her Bible 
these fifty years, and placed it 
over her heart.