Cremation
Burn me down to
Ash when I die.
Put what’s left in an urn
And give it to
The wide-eyed,
Sweaty-palmed kid
With a tremor.
Out of the funereal silence
Will arise the piercing smash,
(Just my luck)
Of ice-white ceramic,
A collective gasp,
A plume of dust
Just as it starts
To rain and turn
What remains into mud.
7/2/21
No comments:
Post a Comment