Waystation
Let's workshop this poem about how the life-goes-on detachment of a group of gravediggers does not indicate their ignorance of the severity of the mourning rituals they play such a pivotal role in
Waystation
Whistling as they dig,
puffing rollups, cracking
foreign jokes (stylings
all of the One)—
the hired hands (gorilla
digits of Miles Davis)
do fathom the enormity
of the farewells
they enable and frame
(in wait), but now
is not their time to toss
grave handfuls of dirt.
