Reverse Ghazal

(for B.)

Secrets that lips hold back, the body shows.
Be gone, Sun. In moonlight, the body glows.

Rittenhouse sobs he shot in self-defense.
Entry wound in the back, the body knows

otherwise. The heart houses love, pumps blood.
Is illness chance or debt the body owes?

Top model insists she’s not beautiful,
just knows how best to turn the body, pose.

Another face on faded tacked-up signs.
River thaws, carrying the body, flows

to the ocean’s mouth. Cow down in a field.
Cackling and flapping near the body, crows.

Every religion claims its miracles.
Awe-struck disciples swore the body rose.

Reason trumped by a hot butt in tight pants.
Though tender boys abound, the body chose

a cad. Where’s the wisdom? So far aging’s
bringing loss, aches, decay. The body slows.

So many iterations of hunger.
The soul craves poetry, the body, prose.

Stop fighting, the blizzard whispered. Snow’s soft.
Lie down. Not found for weeks, the body froze.

Tubes to clean. Broth to lift to grey-tinged lips.
Final acts of love – wash the body, close

the eyes. Blue plus-sign on the peed-on stick –
A new soul settles in. The body grows.

I’ll stay and haunt you, Stone assures her kids.
But can she? What’s left when the body goes?