Ugly crime scene
Helium canister of death
“Mind the tape”
“Are you sure you want to see this, I can clean it up…?”
Clutching the hand of my husband of two months
A look shared
Such a technical pursuit of answers
“Is this how she did it?”
“Where was she found?”
A large photo of them together sits on the floor
What was she looking at?
She watched them together as kids as she sucked her last breath
Where was she sitting? How was she found? Who found her?
Here in the glider. Slumped in her chair. Her boyfriend.
Questions – questions – questions – questions
All asking the same thing
The officer is patient and timid, they don’t see suicide much in this small town
Was there a note –(why?)
Of course – “police evidence”
When can we see it? (will it tell me why?)
I can get you a copy
The scene fades and a funeral follows
strangers, friends and family
All asking – why?
Her funeral program sits in a box in my living room
The picture she stared at hangs on my wall
The glider she died in sits in his mother’s living room
We have lots of reminders of her
But mykids will never meet her
And there is no why