Unaccustomed As I Am To Rising From the Grave In Public
They placed me in a wooden box
and then they put the lid on. They left
me to shiver the cold night through and
picked me up next day around eleven a.m.
I heard dogs bark and children play, I heard
sweet songs among the dirges; friends and relatives
said such lovely things about me that afore were quite
unheard of. Inevitably, old Uncle Jim came out with
the one about the actress and the archbishop,
and what the fallen woman said at confessional
to a rabbi who'd taken over from the priest
for the day in a spirit most ecumenical. Then
the pall-bearers at last bore the box to the
spot assigned for burial. "Ashes to ashes,
dust to dust," said the reverend with
solemn finality as they let down the
box with me inside into the yawning
cavity, and that, if you'll allow me
add, with something akin to
alacrity. Then just as he gave
the final sign
to set the spades
showering earth down,
I lifted the lid of the box where I lay,
I said to the assembled all gasping and white:
"Sorry to stop the proceedings so late in the day, but one assumption I
challenge as completely unfounded, though it's been all too readily
taken for granted:
Far be it from me to cause an upset, but I think you should know--
I'M NOT DEAD YET!"
Some of the assembled felt very let down
and made no bones about it.
Copyright © Julian Scutts | Year Posted 2017
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment