Approximately Dceased
He has left the world.
A half-made bed creaks still.
A life left elsewhere,
not here in this blue rat-tailed viewing.
Display the cold hands,
the musty suit newly buttoned.
Teeth wedged tightly
inside a cosmetology mask.
Earwax continues.
A smile sheens on formaldehyde lips.
Outside, a spasmodic rain quivers.
Never before has he been this ready.
His pockets bulge still with balled-up notes
a linty jot and tittle left unsung.
Damp mourners ebb away
dabbing milk-less eyes.
A soft hat sags from a paint-chipped hook
dripping like a nose.
Half-washed dishes are his legacy.
Close the door quietly least they rattle.
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