Burnishing the Death

This infection,this rush of cells
toward the damage and invasion of the body,
does me no good.

The suspension of faith in healing
from a distance, like a mother calling from home,
impatient for details flush with rosy predictions
will never work.

This maneuver is a reflection of how bad
the disposal of flesh can be,
rotting and septic cannot be made new
by burnishing the death
with words that have no meaning.

I am fading
into spirit
with no attachment
to the death
that lingers
around these weary bones.