The Ash Heap

skin settled

arms of dust
lifeless lumps
heave your chest
sneeze life into a mug
and the droplets osmose
identity into the urn

lumpy dust into the cup
and later onto the ash heap

patiently await
incineration,
polish silver
wake ornaments
with rotting fingers

alive only in their dying

poem by Sean Godley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!