After They Laid Me In The Ground Poem by richard ilnicki

After they laid me in the ground
no one came around,
neither birds, nor insects, nor rodents.
Not even one lousy angel showed-up,
clipped wings or otherwise, dirty charcoal face or lily white.
This did not take me by surprise.
I had half expected to be laid to rest
in 'no man's land'
where people are afraid of their shadows
and toss salt over their shoulders
in an attempt to exorcise the potential onslaught
of bad luck.

It was just as if I had been sentenced
to a life of solitary confinement, hermetically sealed
like a bug in a jar
without food, water or someone to communicate with.
I would rather have spent a month borne on the Bed of Procrustes
where I would be stretched to my physical,
mental and emotional limits. I would rather suffer
a forced elongation of my stubborn subconscious ligaments
and the pain of disarticulated rebellious joints
than be left alone without anyone to speak to.

Nevertheless, even though I couldn't tell day from night
and was in the company of the dead,
I still got a kick out of at least one thing.
It was the kids
who would occasionally come around
to where they had laid me in the ground.
They usually showed-up after midnight,
would play loud music,
laugh,
sing,
drink,
and dance,
then just for fun
they would turn over my head stone,
climb behind the moon,
and shoot the eyes of owls out
with a home made slingshot