In Memoriam

i pick up the flowers and i
bring them to my face and i
inhale and, there is
no scent of roses. or pink and white
carnations. thank you mother
they are … appropriate

They all agreed,
Hand on heart and heads held high,
To a man
That he was a decent enough guy
And that given half a chance
He would, sooner or late,
Have had his life
In some kind of shape.
The general consensus he

"wouldhavebeengreatbutwasgoodanyway"

Too bad he didn’t see the car
Coming towards him.
Too bad he didn’t see
What was coming to him
Until it was too late.
What a waste.

That’s what they said.

But when backs were turned,
They stuck the knives in,
(Like voodoo dolls
Like pincushions)
Withdrew the bloodied blades,
Staring, entranced, as
Red stained starched white

Like voodoo

it is difficult to write with your
hands in a coffin and.
six feet, under so I talk
with the pen of another.
send them home mother
they only came for the party