The Wake Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

The wake


I can't cope with this everything is arranged
the women in my house are talking about handbags
that much not match the dress.
Or is it the other way around
I tried my suit it was too small I'm wearing a black trouser
with a suitable jacket.
The casket will be open, but we can't stand too near
I Don't want to see his cold face.
He has been in the morgue for days, waiting for
the money from his boss in Congo
if the money does not arrive on time, we have to wait
a bit longer.
I have saved, but it was meant for my funeral,
everything else is arranged they are playing AVE Maria
which will reduce me to tears.
My wife will shush me to tell me to pull myself together
and hand me a serviette.
After the burial, we will go and get something to eat
I like to get drunk, but my wife will stop me.
You see he was my friend and I will never get a new one.