In The Middle Poem by Brian Rihlmann

We imagine that it comes
at the end of the show,
yet so often,
it arrives in the middle,

an obnoxious theatre patron,
barging in the door,
tripping over people's legs
and stepping on their feet
as it barrels down the dark aisle,
yelling, "Hey! You in here? "

Or interrupting wedding plans
with glossy photos of caskets,
as the undertaker
slides a box of tissues
across the table.

She wonders about
using those same flowers
graveside, since the money's
already been spent....

and if she can spray paint
that goddamn white dress
flat black.