Visitation

“She looks good, doesn’t she?”
They come to visitation and agree.
“She’s well preserved”, they always say
As they closely inspect for signs of decay.

“She looks good doesn’t she?”
Politely paying respects to me.
My loved one’s add, “ She’s holding up well.
Lord knows, I wouldn’t if I were in hell”

Mausoleum, mortuary, they scurry
from this place I’m buried.
Cheerily chanting convincingly
“She looks good, doesn’t she?

Yes very natural she appears
Contentedly they wipe their tears
But my decomposing remains still rot
Under blind eyes that see it not.

When finally I give up my ghost,
I’ll no longer be my own funeral host
My old carcas please quickly cremate,
Much too long I’ve lain in state.


By Patty Prewitt