At a Viewing

There’s a riddle posed by death
Whose answer I don’t know:
How flesh can keep so straight a face
While bone grins just below.

Perhaps bone finds absurd that flesh
Strains to be sterner stuff
But settling into dirt will lose
Composure soon enough.

Or do bone’s deep-set eyes see far
To the back of all things dead
Some ancient hope of life again
Flesh cannot see ahead.

Before them, both so neatly boxed
They stop my puzzled walk,
I want to answer I give up,
But neither one will talk.

–October 31, 2003

(“At a Viewing” was published in Issue 37 of Seems, Lakeland College WI.)

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Published on November 2, 2006 at 3:52 pm  Leave a Comment  

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