Eat, Drink, and Be Merry

Written as the pandemic unfolded

A hopeless Spring blooms with mockery

Headstones spring up like daisies

The waxing sun has no power 

To warm the weary hearts of the people

Death cannot believe his good fortune

He is drunk on a torrent of lives

A cataract booming down his gullet with no abating

Besotted, he slouches in his dreadful seat

Empty sockets gleaming

“Today,” he cries, “I will eat, drink, and be merry!”

Reviews

[barleygirl]

At the time you wrote this, it could've been a message about covid deaths or not . . . but now that I'm reading it some months later, with 1000+ covid deaths every day in the USA, this MUST be about that. I don't want to give credence to Trump's ridiculous remarks, but this poem reminds me of his ill-advised "it is what it is"! I think of these deaths every day, even tho I know nobody hit hard in this way, but there are people who don't think of it as a big deal. Death sometimes gets to eat, drink & be merry, it's just part of being expendable. The best part of your poem is the way you balance the two opposing forces of laughing at this & taking it very seriously (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[John the Baptist]

Nice anthropomorphizing of death here. Indeed, he is guzzling bodies in this grim spring. I really hope the sucker pukes and passes out soon.

[Brad]

Thanks! I work at a hospital, and while I personally am at less risk than some, it is still a mental grind day in and day out.