like painted
clowns
In
the funeral trade, you wait a lot she said;
It
gives me time to stop and think.
People
stop hurrying once they’re dead.
I
don’t let grief rattle around my head
The
view is grand, standing at the brink.
In
the funeral trade, you wait a lot she said;
I
don’t regret the lives I could’ve led
or
play with Ouija boards to keep the link
People
stop hurrying once they’re dead.
Life
flashes and you’ll miss it if you blink
I
like to pause and soak it up instead.
In
the funeral trade, you see a lot she said;
We’re
like clowns with mouths wide and red.
The
grins die when the last applause has ended.
People
stop hurrying once they’re dead.
Strangers
say I’m morbid even weird
But
the grief of others fills me with fire.
In
the funeral trade, you learn a lot she said;
People
stop worrying once they’re dead.
- Duncan Richardson 2017
Duncan Richardson is a writer of fiction, poetry, haiku, radio drama and educational texts. He teaches English as a Second Language part time.
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