My aunt she looked so small

My aunt, she looked so small,

swimming in that pale blue cloth.

Her back, exposed,

the ties loose,

a cold draft on the skin.

It took me back,

that thin, rough weave,

the way it never quite

closed,

the way they told you

to put it on,

facing front,

like a flag of surrender.

Everything open.

The body,

a question on a cold slab.

The chill

that seeps in,

and stays.