In a chamber of melded flora and showy sanctity,
a forgotten boy waited to the side in a winged chair,
peering through the throng of mourners, to the coffin,
wondering if the patient man inside might move.
Mourners gone, the man alone, the boy slipped away,
to stand, to stare, to pinch the cool, elastic face
that seemed not to care,
then crept back to the winged chair to wait.
|