the priest have all dug their way out,
to lethargic to suffer another rebirth.
they need advanced medicine and
perhaps a good drycleaner.
heavy feet stumble and stagger past
gravestones through the garden
over the self impoverished tulips.
the contrast of gray against
yellow is striking.
nobody had ever seen such a color before.
inside the old church the congregation turns
their hymnals to page fifty seven singing alound.
'such a beautifully vibrant death we all live'.