Opening by Olive Dwan

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Opening
by Olive Dwan

The line of her body
laying on the pedestal -

she looked stretched out,
taller than before -

white curls combed clean,
skin clear and taught
where wrinkles used to be,

the crisp white blanket spread across her,
hiding the wood underneath

as if
suspended
on a magician’s table.

Outside
a garage light left on.

The lid opened
and the light came out
of the metal and glass
space it had been contained in,
and then into a line -

like a firecracker whipped from left to right, a specific distance
and then over -

A line
like the one drawn out
by her body on the pedestal

and the space
it must have come from.

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