A couple poems

The second one especially still needs work as it's only a second draft.

"September Walkabout"

This twilight afternoon
Purples my fingertips as water drips
From a no-color sky
To slowly soak my shoulders

This sprinkling baptism
Makes a sacrilege of my black umbrella
As I greet with upturned face
The cold-lipped kiss of autumn

"Easter"

Still
As still as this wet April sunrise
Quiet and still
As none of us had ever been
in the shiny mausoleum
The metallic clang and thud of the table being opened,
the whine and slap as she pulls on the tight latex gloves,
Echo
like a lightbulb bursting in an empty theater.
But her face is still.
She folds back the plastic,
and a few patters of condensation drip to the cement.
She takes time to contemplate their journey
into the floor drain.
The smell is bad now.
The white cotton has turned green from the mold
despite three months of fighting.
But her face is still
as she removes the sheet
and exposes the corpse of a man,
a stranger they called Henry.
Dissected --
cut and torn and sawed
into manageable pieces for better viewing,
better learning,
soon it would be dust.
And a young woman is still
Finally still
Before the split face of her teacher,
before the sacrilege and the mystery,
In this last Lenten meditation,
saying
Farewell to the flesh.