The Lazy Wake
Jun 26, 2022
Poetry
The Lazy Wake
The house is empty, except
For the round table and
five chairs.
We three pull flasks and glasses from our pockets.
A fourth draws on a stogie and sips Diet Coke.
You would’ve eyed him with disgust.
It's a gathering with drink and smoke and cards, but
you are dead.
I sense you. You couldn’t leave us be
now could you?
Your smile shimmers on whiskey glasses.
Your snicker echoes in the grind of the wheels —
the train backing up on nearby tracks.
Decks are cut, antes are upped.
Your legends are told,
retold, and told again.
Encircling us
like the plume from the Montecristo.