Friday, June 30, 2017

Poetic interlude #5

Body Language
Body Language

By Michael P Amram

A long while ago I met
the undertaker,
(I remember the grim face)
he escorted death
to its preparatory place

I met him going down
an elevator,
he looked astute—aware of
his ties to dead,
his casual connection to
bodies in bags that zipped,
fitting forms in
heel to vinyl head

he said nothing to me in words
letting dead eyes speak,
ignoring the lights above the
elevator doors,
most eyes' fixation to time
how long 'til they get
to where they'll be

By Michael P Amram

A long while ago I met
the undertaker,
(I remember the grim face)
he escorted death
to its preparatory place

I met him going down
an elevator,
he looked astute—aware of
his ties to dead,
his casual connection to
bodies in bags that zipped,
fitting forms in
heel to vinyl head

he said nothing to me in words
letting dead eyes speak,
ignoring the lights above the
elevator doors,
most eyes' fixation to time
how long 'til they get
to where they'll be

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