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Libido's Casket
In patterned memorial, the afflicted lie:
a tattered reflection of a formerly-possessed splendor.
Wide hands, angled jaw, a physique to behold
as that belonging to someone with an attentive touch.
Just as the calm of the service has sunk into gloom,
the subject of remembrance has risen to sitting.
And he spies the mourning, weeping and now thoroughly shocked
payers of respect to what was his expiration.
With a bound to the carpet, removed from his cask,
the whites of his eyes the only signal of spirit;
he grabs by the wrist a young and pretty woman
and slips into her as if by discretion.
The crowd then disperses and the services cast
aside as the subject has ways with his minx,
and after they've finished and gone separate ways,
he'll only stand to die again when it comes most convenient.
