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Shish!
Shish, don’t wake the dead!
The sculpted angel holds
Her finger to her lips and
Whispers..............
Lichens on her limbs attest
To the time she has spent
Tender breathing silence.
About the gravestone
Graver still, little trinkets
Rest; gifts that stay
Tranquil .
The silent scene is set
But in my mind I hear
The sods of earth upturned
By the diggers spade.
I hear the sculptors
Chisel chip marble
Away to reveal the
Angel’s skin .
I hear taught ropes
Slide beneath the casket and
I hear the sobs of loved
Ones in the breeze.
.........................Shish!
Copyright ©
David Byrne
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