Cemetery Seminary

I'm really looking for any quick reviews on this, to be handed in for a class tomorrow. The more help, the better, and the more I love you :D

So many names, the same in basic structure,

lay bare out in glistening gray, hardened

by weather.  The muddy texture of each new

place-mat a testament to the gentle feast underneath.

 

Who is to say that they have found a resting place,

or a final home?  The worms welcome them enough,

it seems.  Maybe there is some other little place below

each plot, never seen by human eyes, but death dreams.

 

Sometimes I say I will find you out, all of you hiding in

your little lacquered boxes, your ornate urns, and

be laid down with you, or lay myself if the time comes.

It’s not the judge who makes the law.

 

But for now this Plato-inspired form continues to encompass

what it means to be a walking prison.  The key

is somewhere inside, a pit in the cherry of my chest,

fatally heavier than anvils in Saturday morning cartoons.

 

At least you all help the grass and flowers, giving them

the flesh off your bones, the sinewy mesh of life and death

so they can survive.  The smell of freshly cut lawn and roses

instead of rotting lovers and malcontent, though I’ll find you out.

 

Beneath each gray mask another Christ-like resurrection

waiting to happen, to come back and unravel the cloth

of confusion that smothers me.  Maybe before it’s too late,

the air will enter my chapping lungs, each capillary an inflated bag.

 

For now you hide from the mouths of the hungry masses,

but only above the earth.  Down low I imagine you are consumed

like fire on dry wood, or tissue paper, the wriggly masters of your

once controlled forms having their fill.   The leftovers.

 

Lazarus just died again, you know, even after he woke up,

so the rest of us have a lot less to hope for.  Waking up

in the four cornered prison, in our bags of flesh and water.

The weakness of this form a salvation at worst.