#513 - a little mouse death mourning in all the general plague

  

28.v.21

513

2.145

a little mouse death mourning in all the general plague

not much light to show

 

a rictus riddle

and this rigor

as if meant last words

was there the rattle first?

 

an irony like swarming death

or life become a sign

 

fly led

and later worm

or nameless underbug

to work the dark

to take one’s poison too

 

so priestly peaceful first repose

who’ll smell death without a plan?

 

in all this solemn mock

say seem

is all we ever know

 

a day of bright parts in attendance

and lead me to the pyre

 

 

 

the animal died

 

where it was

no one thought bury me

nothing like that

 

a feast was

went in every direction

atom by atom

 

the tree fell

just where it was standing

no face, nothing meant

 

was it a game to this loss?

was it poison

the honest callousness?

 

ask what is the smell of death made from (?)

 

won’t it be nameless

we all fade, fall, fold in

and worlds and stars

time gone