The Silence of Being Buried – 2

bulrushes negative

homage paid
that’s what we called it then
I recall the passing of a cup
– no —
a bottle.
We required more
and ever since we have given less
Some call it wisdom
but it’s simplicity

The memory will surface like a whale.
Regard it slowly, here in the dark,
its eyes will shine the light you shine
its mouth will kiss
the lips you kiss
The memory will regard you
from the dark.

The hands still move
in dutiful motion
They take the shape and arrange them neatly
find the parts that fit discretely
Scratch at cheeks and smile so meekly
with eyes so liquid …

How will the folding work?
How will we pick up and pardon away
the mess and the bones and the honest decay
of a life that has worked up to the day
that it ended…


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