The Handsome Dead Man

They said he was handsomer
Than any dead man before him.
Jealous men would look
Upon his sober face
Saying they saw
Nothing
Wives, daughters, and mourning aunts
Would boast tearfully in hushed Voices to
Look closer.

On the second glance of dewy bangs,
Milky eyes, and shallow cheeks
A second time they would ask
What do these women see
That they do not.
Sisters, nieces, and
Incredulous mothers
Would wipe their tears and suggest,
"Look closer."

On the third glance of
Simple wrinkles,
Ragged clothes, and angular curves
A third time they would wonder,
"Why do these women cry for him So?"
The lone little lady with her hoarse Voice,
Would, in a hush
Set them together and explain.

"Oh! It is not his sober face,
Nor dewy bangs.
It is not those milky eyes,
Those shallow cheeks, or those Ragged clothes
That draw us so close to him.
Do you not see that smile
Of nothingness drawn across his Sorrowed lips?
Those fleshy lips in a simple smile--
A smile of ages and wisdom
And relief of peace.
How sad yet happy it is to know
He died knowing what you men
Know naught."