A Morgue Experience

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A Morgue Experience

There is a primitive wailing sound— 
a stricken keening of utter despair—

a mother’s awful symphony 

of savage tongue,
throbbing throat, 
and ruined heart.

A son? Handsome youth cut down? 
A daughter? Blooming beauty snuffed? 

Father, steeped in rage, refuses to go, 
preferring to drink himself numb, 

and lay blame at a careless God’s doorstep.

There lurks a hidden cavity,
a storage packet of sudden death, 
murky beneath dark, wet streets.

An officer of Laws for the Living 

escorts Mother down a dim hallway 
to a large viewing window where a
teenager lies in state under bright lights 

and hideous shroud of white sheet.

The blanched face revealed— 

Sightless eyes cannot see Mother,
Stopped arms cannot hug Mother, 
Silent voice cannot greet Mother,
Sealed lips cannot kiss Mother farewell.  

Comes the keening.

From the Childhood Remedy and Other Such collection

. . . j

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