4 years ago like another life

Day of the Dead

Now the night fires have burned to embers
and we drizzle into the season of darkness,
pausing today to feed the dead, tear off pieces
of ourselves, bread crumbs to scatter on the graves
of our old loves and our old lives, even as we know
the crows and gulls will devour them as they would
rip the tortured flesh clean from our frames of bones
and wouldn’t there be some relief, even pleasure,
in giving our bodies once more to creatures
who would accept them, hungrily, greedily?


Link to an audio recording:

Audio Post: 2 poems, written Nov. 1 and Oct. 31, read by the author [that’s me (I)]


About Ray Sharp

Father, poet, triathlete, local public health planner
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