Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Rewriting the Obits


Rewriting the Obits


“She is used to
this sort of thing”
—Sylvia Plath, “Edge
______________________

Sitting in my study—
Late at night in Court Green

I’m gazing out the window—
Instead of into a chintzy mirror

The dead know me—
When I come browsing

Browsing in the graveyard—
Ratty weeds above them

They’re nailed in space—
Down graveyard steps

Each coffin a Titanic—
Still sinking further down

I rearrange the deckchairs—
And the band plays on

I rewrite their obituaries—
They find it entertaining

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