Embalming

You’ll need a corpse, your own or someone else’s.

You’ll need a certain distance; the less you care about

your corpse the better. Light should be

unforgiving, so as to lend a literal

aspect to your project. Flesh should be putty,

each hair of the brows, each lash, a pencil mark.

If the skeleton is intact, its shape may

suggest beginnings of a structure, though even here

modification might occur; heavier

tools are waiting in the drawer, as well as wire,

varied lengths and thicknesses of doweling.

Odd hollows may be filled with bundled towel.

As for the fluids, arrange them on the cart

in a pleasing manner. I prefer we speak

of ointments. This notion of one’s anointing

will help distract you from a simpler story

of your handiwork. Those people in the parlor

made requests, remember? Don’t be concerned.

Whatever this was to them, it is all yours now.

The clay of your creation lies before you,

invites your hand. Becoming anxious? That’s good.

You should be a little anxious. You’re ready.

Hold the knife as you would a quill, hardly at all.

See that first line before you cross it, and draw.

Source: Philokalia: New and Selected Poems (Zoo Press, 2002)