When You Bury A Marriage Poem by Robert Matte Jr.

When you bury a marriage
the wake should feature
cheap liquor, tasteless food,
wilted flowers and
off pitch music with
the casket
open for viewing.
Inside are placed
charred wedding photos,
a weathered
home for sale sign,
lawyer ads
consent decrees
and empty vials
of Valium.

When you bury a marriage
make sure the grave site
is blasted barren,
the hole deep, that
the casket is crafted from
volcanic obsidian
and that the pall
bearers are mimes,
their powdered faces
contorted into silent
screams.

When I buried a marriage
deadening numbness
recurred for months.
Having cauterized the wound
with songs of broken promises,
and long stares
into empty space,
I plunged my gaunt face

into a winter cold creek,
the shock
reviving my heart.