Ode To The Dead Poem by Katrina Harms

Just making conversation
around a tray of sara lee
perfectly square cut
did he succumb
because of the meth
more a death by his own hand
not tragic but
a waste of public funds

it is not lost upon me
those tender hands who held me
swelled and fed me
cupped love like rain
Held no gun
no trigger
just a silent prayer, a whisper
'I'm ready to be done'

And here I am
making conversation
unworthy speculation
about the motive means and method
It is no fine thing
To outlive the early dead
And cast lots
for their clothing