Short Crematory Poems

cars pass by
the hospital
by the crematory
and emit exhaust fumes
and the chimneys
by the crematory
they emit smoke
emit the dead
from Dante's Inferno
and we breathe them
we breathe death
and sneeze a lot...

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I've been working in the crematory,
All the livelong sob story,
Can’t you hear the gas jets breathing?
Play too close and you’ll get urned.
Plus we only queue up two-a-day,
So you could really mess us up,
too.
Till six o’clock when on the dot,
The valves are turned to plumb true,
The breathing stops,
Yabadabadoo....

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The dust blends with 
the humid specks.
Smoke twirls. Hangs for a 
while, and then departs.

Something was burning far away.
Inside me also. To ashes.
I release the crematory.
It was over.

I will scatter the years, 
spent with you. On a sand bar.
Where we stood when tide was 
low. Now it is overwhelmed,

the bank. The seagulls don’t 
leave ther engraved, gender signs.


Satish Verma...

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