THE AFTERLIFE

A poem by Yuri Kageyama Feb. 23, 2022

The mass of meat

In a heap like a grave,

Cold, still

Amid wafting incense,

The moans and chants of mourning,

Eyes closed, hands clasped

Frozen in motion,

I lose interest:

Those motions of burial and propriety,

Those greetings, sympathy, tears;

He is no longer there,

Not in that body,  

Twitching twisting growling in incoherence,

More and more silent

Over the years,

He is no longer there:

At last,

He is gone