Forced Measure

Punchbowl Procession

I rule out 7 paces
in front of and beyond dusted marble crosses.
Short-statured soldiers
quietly writhe inside crushed velvet red lined
plush boxes.

Damp soil edges drop
sharp below unleavened, grassy plains as
shadows bow in memory of yet
another.

Temporary, shiny rolls of thin turf cover
permanent cloaks. Veiled sighs release
beneath predetermined
oak eaves.

Muttered last words drift to rest beside
thorny stemmed freshly departed gifts.