I am an Australian poet, US resident and recently retired financial systems analyst who spends his life writing and traveling. Recently published in South Carolina Review, Gargoyle and Big Muddy Review.
when I left home
he wrote me any angry letter
saying do you think
you'll make the slightest bit of difference
you and all this drivel you go on about
how you're going to change the world
look at Napoleon —
we all know what happened to him
but it was me that needed a change
and that was why I had done what I did
I wrote that
in my response,
sitting at the table
in my small San Francisco apartment
my other hand unconsciously
slipped inside my shirt
If It Can't Be Done Right, Why Bother Dying
It's five past burial
and already the mourners
are discussing other funerals
they have known.
"Aunt Sarah's was so beautiful,"
"And when Uncle Bob passed to his reward,
the choir-loft positively soared."
"And what a touching eulogy
was “Father-Briar's over Donny Kent."
It's no longer about the death
of a loved one
but the size of the parade,
the breadth of the feast,
the grandeur of the spectacle.
He lived a good life
but was buried on
a scale of one to ten.
"We'll miss him,” they say.
But they could have missed him
so much more.
©2016 John Grey
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