A handful of dirt

[Linda]

Hi Keith, I'm new to this site and have been reading.  Saw this piece and admire a poem that speaks of death without sentimentality.

 
My white shirt wouldn't fasten at the kneck.............neck spelled Kneck?............I pause at this opening  
so I filled the gap with a large black knott..................and feel the poem should start at....it should have just been a glance
It should have just been a glance
across a crowded bar, a nod to the wise
and a pint half raised.
We were never any good with words.

A mound of fake grass masks the reality ...........love how you denote a funeral
of freshly dug earth. You’ve been hiding
while the word spread, flowers darkened...............and also these 2 lines
and everyone who knew you was your friend.

Finally you arrive, I think of fulcrums
and moments as little Joey shoulders ......................maybe....as your son
all your weight again. I don’t recognise you
as they speak of a child becoming a young man,
but I can see you glisten in your mothers eyes..........see you glistening 

Later we’ll bring you back to life
with good whisky and songs, sell each other stories,................... perfect as is... but sell? not tell
of how it always was with you................................................a line break here for the last two
I’ll see you across the crowded bar, raise my glass
and you’ll know we were never good with words.

......................................................................................Lovely.......Linda