You are so still. No rising and falling in your chest. You mouth lies wide open. Someone closed your eyes. The same tepid sunlight partially fills the room and casts shadows throughout. A glass of unfinished pepsi remains by your bedside.
You are so still. But morticians styled your hair and applied your makeup. You look well in the dress you picked out for yourself. You look comfortable on the cushioned back of the casket you pre-ordered. Mira slips a bottle of pepsi under your arm.
You are so still. Not that I can see you, for your coffin is sealed and left on your open grave. The wind rips through the pavillion where we sit facing you.
They soon carve your name next to Dad’s on the headstone.
a lone crow
Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads’ Bits of Inspiration ~ Poems in April ~ Bell (imagined by Susie Cleavenger)
WD April PAD 2019 18/30