Coins are for coaxing; call me home but not today

As we pause to reflect
i wish you all the best with battles long fought
for we take the fight uphill
stepping out of our own graves

shovels pointed up
the numbered calendar papers
dropping days as dames
though punchlines may not seem the same
we must tear away from sordid games

these pine trees pitch a scent so familiar
sitting there on the concrete bench
in the graveyard
it rained
and rained
and rained

melting steam rose off the ground
granting passage to those that passed
pulling from the aching bodies and hurt
they leave behind loved ones
or at least one smile in a passing stranger

mating birds beat their chests
matriarchs meet them with matches for the fire
lighting glass oil astral lamps

we say goodbyes to ourselves  
this arthritis of a life
leaks as week old caskets do





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inspired by the whimsical Crimsin

https://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/296838-fuck-oclock/