a poem for funeral-goers

By seannelson

Thu, 24 Oct 2013
  • 467 reads
1 comments
 
the Ming vases they're broken
and the roses they’re sable now
 
With gel-deranged mange, 
silk-nooses, and boa-constrictor souls
we drag our fading parade 
down Golden Street  
awkward 
crawling
crumbling
like dry-ice in black coats
walking with fire
Certificate U
Poem
Apple (haiku)

Comments

Submitted by Ray Schaufeld on

This is good!      Elsie