Mix Up At The Mausoleum Poem by David McLansky

The mausoleum was at fault
They gave away the next-door vault
Now I could not contiguous lie
With my two wives when I die;
My second wife would then reside
Three floors below and to the side
And in between in copper urns
The remains of strangers lately burned;
I did not wish to spark a war
Between two wives that I adored,
To lay there while the stars burnt out
In civil wars and endless pouts;
And so I was disinterred
Though I was not the one who erred
And had myself moved down three floors,
So civil peace could be restored;
I lay now in eternal rest
Between two wives of whom I’m blessed,
Hopeful of my expectations
That I can handle two erections.