At the Funeral

A Poem By Gary // 11/16/2007

There is blood on her fur-coat,
from when his nose started to bleed,
when she embraced him,
at the funeral.
There is a tear on his shoe,
from when she cried,
as he held her,
at the funeral.
There is lipstick on his cheek,
from her parted, seventy-year-old lips,
from when she kissed his cheek,
at the funeral.
And there is Julie, who is three,
doing silly magic tricks,
in the parlor,
at the funeral.
And the dead one is watching Julie,
laughing and smiling,
at the funeral.

Comments

....

i like it alot! I think it's very good!

Emily | Sat, 11/17/2007

WOW

Gary,

The description in this poem describes the scene perfectly, but you also leave enough unsaid to tantalize the reader's interest, leaving the unanswered questions: Why is she seventy years old? Why is she kissing him? Who is Julie, and why is she doing silly magic tricks? The repetition of the fourth line gave unity to the piece.

Thanks for posting it.

Taylor

Anonymous | Tue, 11/20/2007

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