Under a Blue Sheet

I dreamt I opened my brother’s casket, 

Round and smooth, in the shape of a womb, made 

From two perfect pieces of stainless steel, 

Tightly fitted together as one.  In

The shell he curled, like a fetus under 

A blue sheet.  I cradled him in my arms 

Looking down gently at his eyes.  They moved 

And again under his lids, though I knew 

They hadn’t.  He was warm, pliable, his 

Head hanging heavy in my right arm and 

Hand.  I could see lines around his eyes, and 

His hair was brown with slashes of gray, slicked 

Back the way he liked.  Then the illusion 

Began to slip away.  I could see he 

Was gone, his face aging, ashen, before

I looked away, closed my eyes in darkness.