Really Poor People Cannot Die Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

really poor people cannot die
at least not in public,
unless they slump over on the bus,

while waiting in line
or overnight, frozen sparrow fashion
come to dust outside

when they'd rather die
than go to a shelter
where they can get knived.

well, you never see them lying in state
in a rotunda, banked with flowers
behind velvet ropes

where the myraids in hushed wonder
pause and look their way.
sometimes they pass away in

their apartments.
no one knows, for days
unless it's someone coming upstairs

to post the eviction notice
for non payment of rent
but you tell me how do you get it sent

from Heaven when the trip's one way
to the house not made with hands.

mary angela douglas 2 april 2016