when the flowers come,
death appears
NAHKYIA ABRAMS
Death is an unfair agreement
With no room to barter, no room for evidence that you once were here
But you can mock me with a moving image
Who can I show that you existed
Death is an unfair agreement
With no room to barter, no room for evidence that you once were here
But you can mock me with a moving image
Who can I show that you existed
When the flowers come, death appears.
Before I knew it was too late
I was taking pictures
While you were a lion in the cold
The clot off facing truth was coming
In uptown
With a slumlord funeral director
Hoarder of bodies
To make them pretty
But it did not look like you
It was not you at all
Small corridor
A back room with 3 prima donna dresses
Wrapped in plastic
And a “ we thank you”
One in yellow
One in navy
One in black
Marooned floors
Pink walls
Two chairs that faced two white double doors Of what was coming
I had already seen it in my dreams Still, I lied to myself
acting unsure of what was to come The door opened
And it was exactly the way I imagined Your body laid in symmetry
Down a velvet hall
Marron chairs and pink walls
A silver stone.
A back room with 3 prima donna dresses
Wrapped in plastic
And a “ we thank you”
One in yellow
One in navy
One in black
Marooned floors
Pink walls
Two chairs that faced two white double doors Of what was coming
I had already seen it in my dreams Still, I lied to myself
acting unsure of what was to come The door opened
And it was exactly the way I imagined Your body laid in symmetry
Down a velvet hall
Marron chairs and pink walls
A silver stone.
They rushed past me as if they could save
you
I dragged
Against the carpet that the chairs impressed
on
I was not there
Sound muffled in my ears
A crowd hovering over you
Begging that they keep looking at someone
who once was
So that I do not capture the full frame
When the backs of the others finally stopped
shielding what I was afraid of
Only what looks like you is there.
A gray wash over my eyes
The white linen. Eyes shut. I wondered if you were having a little HA moment.
If this was a joke you played.
I glanced at your still hands
and knew it was not,
a funny little thing.