Cost Of Living

Your casket is empty
Except for 
Silk lined predictions 
In a cream, white lace 
A veil you spun
Like a spider
With just as many eyes. 

A web
Wrapped around and around 
Tiny soft hands 
Half hers, half his 
Whoever he is 
But not half mine 

Green blooms on your kitchen table 
The light dapples, you think it
But you will not 
or can not,
Perhaps the cost is too dear
To tell her they are for her. 

Is it something old and blue? 
Or two empty bottles, 
red teeth and red lips 
spit obituary, toast it 
close the lid 
the mahogany traps my fingers 

Your altar and mine 
are the same 
We both pray to her, hands clasped 
Lowered breath 
I won’t mourn
I won’t

Could there be an organ song 
More suited
To this chasm left where you dropped her 
This web is thicker than water 
Your grief and hers entwined