elegy for a dead ken

rush to my funeral

you would-be brothers

come, marching in

bouquets in hand

lay them at the foot of my coffin

peer into the box

protecting my remains

speak your words of praise

while  thinking thoughts of shame

i'll listen

won't budge an inch

fear not

jesus won't awaken me

hand me back to you with tears

years to come

when you're free as me

buried with the dead

neath stones chiseled with steel

our names etched and forgotten

we'll meet to fuss, to cuss

to begin again

learning to love each other 

for once

If death doesn't get you, something else will.