I visited the bed shop
the customer service lady showed a memory foam bed.
As I lay down the foam took me
the most gentle grasp shaping around my prone body.
I lay as if in a body bowl.
When I arose the memory of me disappeared
and I thought of the dead.
The dead, who died in hospital on foam mattresses covered in plastic.
We washed their soft skin
lifting limbs and wiping gently, taking off signs of life.
Silently we dressed them in a shroud
the mattress kept its sense of shape long after the person departed.
Storing the body story.