Keep watching those funerals —

how they launch black sedans

over cemetery landscapes,

stop them by a new grave

where the body enters orbit

around a darkness we can’t see.

Keep looking at widows —

how their tears eat mascara,

their faces a jittery mask

that grief shakes like a tree,

releasing poisonous fruit

on the unrelenting earth.

Keep imagining yourself

in your last sad vehicle,

lowered by a steel machine

into your past, the only thing

left for you to dream about,

as the future takes off without you.

Keep leaving white stones

that are chiseled with names

and dates you’ll never know,

some too young, others old,

all of them carrying death,

the last child they had to birth.

Keep staying inside your home —

so guns won’t blast you,

knives won’t cut your throat,

fire won’t taste your skin,

heart will continue beating,

blood won’t find a way out.