Beauty contest for the dead

The sun

climbs over

one mountain

just to put shade

on another peak.

*

He was twelve when he died

which is better than eleven

so I guess

he could be happy

but I was twelve and a bit

so I was pretty sad

looking at him

with his hair unhair like

his lips unlip like

both flattened and deflated

with skin matching the snow outside

that kept falling

even after it killed him

and that would kill us all

if we stood idle

waiting to be buried alive

which he was

but not before they brought him in

and prepped him with life

so I could look on him

like I had never before

because the first time in my life

he did not look back at me

even though I was prepped

and I realized that

no corpse

ever looked

beautiful

and

most living bodies

look worse

than corpses

*

My blinks

swallow the day

with just enough night

that I can open my eyes

again.