Preparation Day
The light is fading early today.
Rain turns the whole world to night.
I drive through watery streets,
headlights
stretch to bright tapers,
red lamps
softly trailing
blood beneath my wheels.
Death’s details
fill my busy day.
First, the uncut granite,
sorted and sized,
words neatly arranged,
ready to inscribe
the bare facts of your life,
and then on to the small, white house,
with its big front window and spring garden
hidden behind the black iron gate;
this is where your party will be.
Our guests will arrive soon,
and I must order flowers, great
purple blooms
to dim this too bright room.
Now we’re nearly finished,
but first I must see
to your final ground,
small patch
of turned earth,
and then tomorrow you can finally rest.
Attend us gently
as we weep
and slowly walk away.
poem by Steven Federle
Added by Poetry Lover
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