Late arrangements arrived well dressed
Uselessly placed, to make the place look good.
Smelling of sorrow? Relief?
“He looks good” in his mobster suit
Pinstriped and shinola black
Except for those nails they should have clipped.
His watch was even still ticking
Stubbornly holding on for life.
Too little, too late.
Like the Krispy Kreme you demanded
And the help I knew you needed
I thought you would still be here when I graduated.
You’re the first of the four to go
So I stood above you and stared
Even though I knew you would disapprove.
The home weaved a tapestry similar to your son's.
It came with unraveled ends, broken glasses, missing progeny
At least they didn't ask me for money.
Midland heights keeps getting smaller, sadder.
Promises of iced oatmeal cookies and red juice
Must have been the preachers farce.
Holy words somehow don’t prohibit
Sisters snapping over spared shells and engraving indelible texts and
praying to win pathetic wars.