Dying
Dying
Dying is embarrassing
Everyone turning away from their lives
To look at you
And you not there
A stage actor who’s forgotten
His lines
Gossip you can’t hear
About how precisely it happened
An accident from cancer by your own hand
Then the gathering around the casket
If you’re Catholic they get to look at you
Ironic that it’s called a wake
You’re sleeping in forever
The shaking papers of eulogies
Recollections of your goodness
Paving over the potholes of your flaws
Assembled guests writhing
To quiet their rumbling stomachs
Then the embarrassment of the burial
The tombstone no one likes
Bookends of dates but the books gone
Rote words of priest or rabbi
The living picturing dirt falling
Into your open eyes
Then when enough of the casket is covered
Walking across the thin green ice of grass
You alone broke through
Glances over shoulders
The guilt of leaving you
Alone with the tattooed undertakers
The dead snake of the procession coming to life again
Turning on the heat or AC depending on the season
The empty hearse driving faster
Relief of the reception
The catering kids who just want to get high or already are
Drinks are drunk and soon so too are the mourners
The struggle with small paper plates
Eclipses of crackers and cheese
Dips dripping on ties
Tired children disappearing
Into the soft nights of their mother’s black dresses
As for you it’s nice to have a little quiet
Some time to become acquainted with your new digs
Sleeping the deepest sleep you’ve ever slept
The embarrassment of being
The center of attention fading
The actor backstage after
Salvaging the speech
Listening through the curtain
To the play go on without him