The Elephant in the Room
I am blessed
The detached skeleton
Adrape in black polyester,
Informs each hand
That grips hers
Vicelike,
Vying for condolence,
In a turned out
Sea of sorrow.
Each mourner
Bequeathing
A perfunctory nod,
Acknowledging blindly
Void,
Sanity-pinning
Words;
For to veto such limpet doctrine
Threatens
The unseen deck of cards,
Each trembling suit
Armour plated to its neighbour
Lest one face come loose
And tumble, tumble…
The skull-like head
Adorned with crystal hair band,
Is drawn against her will
Into unreal hugs
From strangers,
Passively acquiescing,
Lest the danger of reality
Rear its oscillating head
And bite.
The day is wet and airless -
Perfect,
For how could
Sun, shine,
On such as this ...
... A gormless day,
Where numbness sticks
From crown to fingertip,
From neck to heel and
Back again,
Each motion filtered,
In stark denial of
Life-given passion,
For all reason has faded like flora in the mist.
A priest’s words trickle
Superfluous upon this damp day,
For what succour they might give,
To an anaesthetised cavern
Of torrenting tears,
An aching ribcage
Of future rage,
A howling banshee,
Dampened and stifled
To awake upon a day,
Where vast tear-dropped luminaries
Stud an infinite universe,
Withholding one missing light from their astral patterning.
But for now all this must wait ...
The eyes are dry, haunted, unseeing,
The movement, robotic, insular,
On auto-pilot.
The strains of ‘Metallica’ rock ring out,
Greeting those, who snail pace,
Into a small cool crematorium;
The half-shell floats and eddies,
In a limpid pool,
Menacing, engulfing...
For she has lost her cupid -
Her wild explorer...
