R.I.P.

“One time the bodies got mixed up,” he giggles,

“they got the wrong man in the coffin!”

I am stunned to silence, but he goes on saying

“In my youth, I dug many graves.

We’d start at midnight, it was slow going

Breaking the frozen earth, so we’d drink

To keep warm, and then at the funeral we

Mocked the priest and his lies about heaven.”

I wonder if he’s afraid of his own end

Now that the best part of life is behind him

But, he’s relentless and jokes about a

Mole that gave a fright to a weeping widow

Who thought her late husband might be

Clawing his way back up from the grave

“You just stay where you are!” she’d say

Stomping the mole hill flat with her foot,

And that was the last time she was seen

Crying and wailing about missing the “Dear man”

I wish I could laugh with him, but a heaviness

Sits on my soul like a rock on a wet sponge

Squeezing bitter tears through my eyes

 

 

Reviews

[poetgurl]

this is sad, funny and kind of creepy. You're a natural story teller. Your imagery is right there.

[Kaylor Mason]

I can definitely feel the weight of it. But I can get the humor too.

[John the Baptist]

Sorry, I know this is a serious poem, but the part about the widow and the mole did make me laugh.

[Laz K.]

I know...my father told me these stories, and when he did I was laughing through my tears.