Stern

I bend to read the note.
Between heads and arms and fingers
I catch the gist and imagine.

Small, concentrated brush strokes
swish across stretched canvas.
A furrowed brow easing
as her thoughts came together
in a flash.

Death had invaded her.

The green smoke of decay
surrounds her sleeping face.
Lips pouted and parted.
Pallid complexion.
Snakes of dark rope compress
her stark neck.
Grey. Everything is grey.