Wednesday, June 27, 2018

Revelry

Death throws a lousy party -
every revelry the same.
Dim lights, dirges, and flat drinks;
black dresses, wilted bouquets.

Cold, lifeless bones in a coffin.
Cold cuts and cheese on a tray.
Death throws a lousy party,
but we're all his guests anyway.

4 comments:

Fireblossom said...

Death throws a lousy party but somehow everybody feels obligated to go.

What price do you have to pay to get out of/ going through all these things twice?

Sherry Blue Sky said...

A bleak poem. I echo Shay. Sigh. Hard days, kiddo.

said...

I like reading this as if there's a louse bouncing from head to head at the funeral. :)

Buddah Moskowitz said...

You've treated this topic with the seriousness it deserves: some, but mostly a wry smile. Excellent.