25 Seconds
They often found the open caskets
far too grim, bizarre.
The shuffling friends and family
in a procession of painful etiquette.
Looking at the young girl's eyes
he saw her thoughts racing and jumbling
like a 1950s fruit machine in full flow.
She was watching and timing the people ahead
desperately groping for a mean or average length of stay
Not to appear too overly sad, nor yet too blase and cold
The crowd moved along and the face came in view
His nostrils had never been so clean in life
she squinted, prying between the closed lids,
to see the faint stitches of staples or thread
'25 seconds! ' She decided to wait.
'That should do the old bastard proud'
Unaware in the moment, her un-distilled hate
had uncovered itself, she had thought it, out loud
poem by Hola Mentirosa
Added by Poetry Lover
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