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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required What’s In The Urn Strangers offered me to join them in a drink I met them on a mountain edge while skiing They seemed like friendly normal people then So what could happen in a simple cabin? Finding that which is not there or vanquished What is there that cannot be perceived? Placed upon the mantel piece are ashes in the cabin Brass vase, a receptacle for lost souls sits in repose A death vase to glare at over cognac By the sober flames cast by A fire place glow observed in action Liquid spirits pour out their poison In the cozy living room inside the cabin Drinks alone cannot remove this feeling of distraction The urn is piercing through my soul People belong in cemeteries you know With all due respect for the dead Scatter them at sea when they‘re deceased Not paraded around in gloom to cause unease Or as a center piece for living rooms I’m not relieved to find it is a lizard on the shelf To be exact, an exotic iguana family friend entombed And to assume that fact makes this matter optimal I beg to differ on that point and voice my opinion later There must be a plot of ground outside Or toilet somewhere to flush it down But better left unsaid, as they are bereaved about the death And I am their invited guest Iguana tried consuming the family’s cat Another favorite pet I guess It is surmised, that’s how it met its end Wound up expired inside the urn The receptacle was there and going nowhere on its own I swear it follows me from room to room By embers glow and ash, shadowing my every move A brass smile casting off the urn, leaving me concerned I could not take my leave The container followed me So I waited, fixated on the thing Is it coming back to life to eat more bugs or me? Finding that which is not there Is easier in the dark Rising to the occasion of the day that breaks I must escape the premises to continue skiing Into the frozen world outside I fly With no discernible signs or paths to lead or learn I get away, no time to say good-byes or find my way Never again will I say; what’s in the urn
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