I haven’t looked at stainless steel the same way, since that cold day in December, when I walked into that unassuming room. The small room just off of the main viewing parlor. I had to see for myself with my very own eyes. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t take anyone’s word for it. And there you were atop the stainless steel table that shone brightly under those ugly fluorescents. It was you. Your face, your body, your skin, so cold it made my fingers ache as I traced your hummingbird tattoo.
Only then were you really gone, my sister.
Cindy O’Quinn is a horror loving, photo taking, homesteading writer, living in the woods of northern Maine. Works published or forthcoming by: HWA Poetry Showcase Vol V, Nothing’s Sacred Vol 4, Moonchild Magazine, Rag Queen Periodical, Sanitariu, Magazine, and others.