MY VERY OWN ‘MAYBE’ MORTALiTY
a poem about life and death
DEATH…AND (MAYBE) LiFE:
THREE THiNGS OF ASHES iN THiS, OUR OLD HOUSE.
(AT LEAST OF THAT i'M AWARE)
POWDERED, EYE-LASHED REMAiNS OF MY FATHER (james-human/texan/drummer/dancer/shoe salesman/truck driver) AND MY FAMiLY'S FiRST TWO DOGS OF SHORTHAiR (dewey-weimeraner and norman-dalmation+weimeraner).
NONE OF WHiCH WERE EVER SET AFLAME; JUST GASES AND BONES; MORE FRAGMENTED MEMOiRS OF MERE RETORTED FEiGN.
BROTHERS, MOTHERS, SiSTERS, AND FATHERS...SONS, DAUGHTERS, AND MAN'S BEST FRiENDS-BOTH SNiFFERS AND ONE SLOBBERER.
GRiEF'S TiNY MAGNETS TOO TiNY TO CLiNG…TO FRiDGE, OR PHARAOH, NOR SATURN’S GREAT KEY RiNGS.
A MYTH…THE DUST OF THE DEAD: TWO COiNS FOR THEiR EYES BUYS THE LiViNG THREE CHERiSHED REMiNDERS…MAYBE…
1. LiFE HAS A PRiCE…RUST.
2. ALL OF US…A REMiSSED MiST.
3. DEATH iS A PRiZE…A BEDDED WiSH.
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Comments (1)
love the way you mix personal details with bigger reflections on life and death. So powerful.