Written after my great-uncle's funeral . Never met him before but for some reason the funeral left an impression on me .

Waxy clean

Scent of Death

As obscene as the

Five fat flies flickering

In the still air .

A passive intrusion

To these bustling bystanders

Coffin creeping,

Relatives bickering

Death reaping his melancholy rewards .

The lost one , a sunken ship

These tears , a vast ocean

In which this sad, sad ship

Is moored

And his enduring suffering



The End

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