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  • Jimmy Broccoli

The Afterlife

Staring up at the lid

Of the box

With hollow eyes of decay

A blinding darkness


And my vision becomes based

Solely on memories

The dirt sounds like

Intermittent thunder

As it is thrown onto

The simple wooden casket

That is struggling to breathe

I scream

But make no sound

I am surrounded

By satin

I cannot feel

Its gentle touch

Or see how it shimmers

When seen in the light

I can hear the weeping

From above

My mother’s tears

Dampen the ambivalent dirt

Mourners will light candles

The glow will surround their sorrow

As they leave

Their black clothing

Will drown into darkness

I close my eyes

And can still see the lid

I become hysterical

And cannot stop

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