Embalming

"Of course they embalm’d you! Yet not so sweet Were aloes and nard, as the youthful glow Which Amenti stole when the small dark feet Wearied of treading our world below."

"They told me, Francis Hinsley, they told me you were hung With red protruding eye-balls and black protruding tongue. I wept as I remembered how often you and I Had laughed about Los Angeles and now ’tis here you’ll lie; Here pickled in formaldehyde and painted like a whore, Shrimp-pink incorruptible, not lost nor gone before."