Walk Slowly At My Burial

a poem

take the pace out of step,

the black beetle crunches over gravel,

a block of ice, stupid silence

carried like a china cup

nearly down, a ring of flowers

the first prize,packed like a gift ;

six strong men are needed to carry

my boxed bag of bones,

flaps of skin and the old-man smell.

Hold on. A moth in a lampshade

couldn`t bruise its wings less;

scared of a fall into cold loam.

Reviews

[bobc]

L...like the images drawn in this piece like '...black beetle...' and '...boxed bag of bones,...'. Maybe it was the alliteration but it sounded/felt good to my ear. The triplet structure made it hard to read for me. Wondered if a different structure might have helped. Thanx...keep at it...bobc