Death of Marilyn Monroe
The ambulance men touched her cold
body, lifted it,heavy as iron,
onto the strethcher, tried to close
the mouth, closed the eyes, tied the arms
to the side, moved a caught strand
of hair, as if it mattered, saw the shape
of her breasts, flattened by gravity,
under the sheet, carried her,
as if were she, down the steps.
These men were never the same.
They went out afterwards, as they always
did, for a drink or two, but they couldn't
meet each other's eyes.
Their lives took a turn-one had nightmares,
strange pains, impotence, depression.
One did not like his work,
his wife looked different, his kids.
Even death seemed different to him
a place where she would be waiting.
and one found himself standing at night
in the doorway to a room of sleep,
listening to a woman breathing,
just an ordinary woman breathing.
