Casket Sharp
Your soft cough becomes prognosis. Soon,
cigarette smoke is the inkblot test of the lung.
Tell me what you see
and I’ll sleepwalk home
to pick out your first and last charcoal suit,
a jade handkerchief for the pocket atop
your excavated chest.
I see two men, father & son
but let’s not get ahead of ourselves, goner.
And now?
A dirge parades past our empty house,
black silk parasols in hand.
I see butterflies of smoke and blood.
And in the aisles of a half-lit church, strangers
walk away from you, whispering “He looks
good, real sharp.” Handsome enough
to bury.
Saeed Jones was born in Memphis, TN and raised in Lewisville, Texas. He received his MFA in Creative Writing at Rutgers University – Newark. His poetry has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. His chapbook When the Only Light is Fire is forthcoming from Sibling Rivalry Press.
