Prothesis and ekfora

prothesis and ekfora

The visitation was grand
All about me, wailing,
Giving the glad hand to
Each long lost long ago.

Afterwards
I lay flat in the coffin, feet first,
You leading the parade,
Somber with relief at such endings.

You were angry when I squirmed,
All the same,
Unable to keep my straight-laced face

In spite of the
Droning
Tolling
Bell.

I shouldn’t have taken it all
So lightly.
I should have let the gray noon settle slowly
On my unbeating heart
Like distant longing.

But you have to admit
The element of absurdity:
Me, refusing to lie still,
You, beside yourself
With propriety.

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