Urning a Living

Urning A Living

Mary lives in a concrete urn of gray
Center stage in the red kitchen
Her husband stays at home next to her
They do not do dishes or anything any more
He too has an urn situated there along the floor
They adore each other
Mary pops her head up from the urn
Very slowly though
Conjures up a kiss for him
She calls it copulation or birth control
Mary watches her lover in snail like progression
Lift his head above his stone cold receptacle 
Their mouths nearly touch
It is an incomplete transaction
On the sorted affair of sorts
The close, missed kiss, almost landed on the lips this time
Time is all they have while in existence
Existing in the finery of their urns inside the kitchen
There will be no babies, this, or any other year
It is very clear they are solid in their conviction
Solid and becoming more so 
Turning into urn is their condition
We’ve come to learn and love them so
Copyright © | Year Posted 2015

Poem

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Adams Avatar
February 2, 2015 at 9:55 AM
Laughing out loud, Earl. Let us hope they find a better birth control method in the future.
Schumacker Avatar
February 2, 2015 at 1:53 PM
Hi Cona, Thank you. Glad you liked it. Love comes in all shapes and sizes. Theirs happens to be an urn....and along with the almost kiss, it happens to be perfect birth control. Have a great day. Earl
Allison Avatar
January 30, 2015 at 10:19 AM
I read this through twice and found it dark and sad Earl:(
Allison Avatar
January 30, 2015 at 6:31 PM
I did enjoy it Earl :-) I just found the imagery of people emerging out of urns quite sad:-) Hugs Jan xx
Schumacker Avatar
January 30, 2015 at 6:26 PM
Hi Jan, Thank you for commenting on my abstraction. I was paying a tribute to Samuel Beckett. He wrote a play about a man and a woman living in an urn. He is famous for creating the tragic/comedy. This was simply an existential expression. Sorry you did not enjoy it. I hope things are good with you. Take care. Earl
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