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Short Song on Cremation

The church bells ring oh
the choir sings that lovely melody
esquire; the daunt and dirk
of a formidable perk
crouching in bushes of fire.

And with an alter stands
a rythmic man, manning a
rivetting race; a touching knot
of smiles forgot and a heart
outdoing its pace.

This bare tight suit, our
bleeding pursuit, surely
sad and fit; mourning a can
of human sand and ash as
likely as shit.

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