Been about seven years
since iv'e seen them
hanging like burnt grapes
deep in the throat of memory.
Black tie, black pants. black shoes
to go with the black smile of tomorrow's blues.
Close to a hundred years she lived take or give,
fifty people or so left to live in her wake...
funny little equation
get together over of buffet of death
blue words dance from ice blue faces
ancient hiccups to soothe the ages.
Ashes to ashes dust to dust
the graveyard man leans into the sun
we've lingered much to long...
Quickly put away
all the blackness of the blackest day,
in the backwoods of the closet
to frolick with the puzzle
and board games
of my youth.