As I lie on my chest
the beating in my heart
strung beyond sleep
spirit aroused
amidst the overwhelming presence
of death
(the guests
have all gone home to bed
the rest
of us lying on pews
of hard wood
laid one
in front of another);
I am paying my dues
as the son of a daughter
whose estranged father
lay frozen
in death.
Maybe it was the coffee
or the looming
ending of agony.
Or maybe not.
As I lie on my makeshift bed
I curse the demons
for shaking the pedestal
of my soul.
(Oh cruel!)
The evils of a conscience
unbound beget
turmoil in the compromised
individual.
Bury me now
and hang a sign:
"R.I.P. Do not disturb."
- written some time in 2000 at the wake of a grandparent
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