The Shower

He was stunned when he found her.
She was naked in the bathtub.
Red water pooling in the small of her back.
The shower head plugging the drain.
Her fingers had gone blue.
Her face had gone white.

He lit up a cigarette while he waited.
The coroner was on his way.
He didn't bother to cover her.
He couldn't bring himself to touch her.
He hadn't touched her in ages.

They came and went.
They took her with them.
Arrangements would be made in the morning.

He called his mother.
She cried for him.
It was his partner.
He would have to move.
She would help him pack.

He called her father.
He cried at his loss.
It was his daughter.
He would have to bury her.
A piece of him died.

He called her best friend.
She was hysterical.
It was her sister.
That was her soul.
She was coming home for her.

It was cold in the drawer when she emerged,
Refreshed and alive.
In the realm of dreams she crept.
She went to her lover and offered him absolution.
She went to her father and offered him comfort.
She went to her best friend and offered her strength.
Although already gone, she went