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NEW and exciting His hands were like turtles.
When it was cold, they slithered
into his sleeves. The turtles,
into their shells.
He was never more patient
than when helping his ancient
Mother walk to her table
at Olive Garden's.
At his Father's funeral
he didn't recognize his daughter
when she first arrived.
It's known not whether she's
metamorphisized
or if he was just hiding in
his head, raiding through
memories of the body
everyone now paid attention to.
He was a
functional pallbearer.
The Military Funeral Honors
composed itself of
gun shots and
veteran speakers who were
so old they couldn't articulate
their words enough
for anyone to follow.
Stripes, blues, reds, stars, whites
Folded like a table napkin
Was placed in the lap
of the weeping old widow
( i couldn't help but have morbid thoughts
they were so sick they made me burst into tears
i kept imagining grandmpa reanimating
sitting up in his coffin,
greeting me like in all times past
warmly, affectionately
he's not going to do that this time
his eye's aren't going to open up
this is the first funeral you've ever been to
where you could lucidly envision the carcass
unexpectedly jumping up with life !
remember it )
