Poetry: Coffin

Her eyes were fixed upon

A distant horizon

Half-closed, staring, seeing nothing

 

While Batman, Robin, and the Silver Surfer

Battled evildoers in azurine iris skies

Her pupils remained fixed

Neither dilating nor contracting with each

heroic struggle for the forces of good.

 

Andy Warhol splashed canvasses in copy machine color

The Beatles sang The Fool on the Hill

And Ginsberg showed a generation the

werewolf in the mirror with Howl

While latex-gloved hands closed her eyes

And placed a sheet over her face.

 

Bellies expanded, joyful flesh was torn

And slippery souls wailed

their greetings to the world

While she lie in her coffin

Pressing against the sharp velvet

Trying to escape.

 

But the Earth covered her

While the spade was

Just within arm’s reach.

 

 

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