Funeral

Their veins were filled with blood thick and viscous

Black suits, black dresses, spread out and scattered

Whispers escape their teeth mumble "Jesus"

Soon, he will turn to ashes gray as stone

And we watch him in his slumber she weeps-

Dry tears, they cannot reach down her cheekbones

While we whisper "Amen" the organ plays.

We watch him tightly bound in cold glory

She weeps. Soon, he'll be ashes fine and gray

Blank expressions and routinelike gestures

They shuffle along the stained old carpet

Towered flowers stand tall for the picture

For now he dwells in a lonely garden

They leave, their veins with blood thick and viscous

She weeps and walks with bones that never harden.