my job to bury the body

once a stout stupidly stubborn hero
my old self
forever a survivor
clutches as if to drown me

it is my job to get rid of the body
even though I am not yet dead

i put tape over my old mouth
to stop it’s useless truth

stuff what i knew of love
under the floorboards
and roll a rug over my tomb

lay down your arms, warrior
yield your yearning to ghosts
let the hollow take yesterday’s eyes
and let this be your lullabye

soon all flesh will loosen
and your straining frame
become powdery soot of recollection

let my buried bones
be seeds for spring
my job to prune my old love
as a shade tree for all who may wander
cross such a reluctant grave

my job to get used to the smell
the clutch of ghost heart
the tears in my food
for these too shall die, so they tell me


rhon drinkwater © 2008


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