36 lines
1002 B
Markdown
36 lines
1002 B
Markdown
---
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type: post
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date: 2021-01-06
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title: Penguins
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categories:
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- Poem
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tags:
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- Death
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- Grief
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---
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Too many suits move in too many lines.
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They circle banquet tables, hawk-eyed,
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hunting crudites, canapés, bruscheta.
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Fingers ferry food --- fish, perhaps --- finding
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slack-jawed mouths already open,
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squawking at wayward children
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or bemoaning The Market,
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whatever that may be.
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At some point, who cares how long ago,
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death surfaced, claimed one, submerged again.
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Who knows how well they knew him,
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their backs turned, studiously
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deciding that he is no longer of them?
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one could never guess.
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We can say his suit was very fine, perhaps,
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that the room is tastefully furnished,
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the coffin silver, the bar, open,
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quite good, and none of them are drunk yet,
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or at least none look it.
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"Good man, good man," they mutter,
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doing all they can to convince each other
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through well-rehearsed performances,
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that this must be the case.
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The silently bereaved already sit graveside.
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