Strange Elegy Poem by Mark Sauer

In strange elegy, they poured her bright blood
Into a sewer, pumped formaldehyde
Into slack veins, exchanged that warm rich flood
For oil that congealed as her flesh dried;
They painted a mask on her sunken skin
To mock a face, and dressed her in a gown
She would have sworn she'd not be caught dead in,
And in a walnut box they laid her down,
And gathered round to say how nice she'd been
And how they would miss her, and then they sat,
And sipped pale wine, with hors d'oeuvres in between,
As unctuous men softly wheeled her out.
Then they burned her in oven made of stone
And left me standing here at last, alone.