Art of Dying


They do death good
Walk among phantoms

with a spring in the step
Take kids in royal prams

for a picnic   Light candles
for night strolls when the snow

falls in duck down   Etch
a rock, snip a hedge into

a green armchair   Profiles
of Nan and Pa  face-to-face

in an almost-kiss.
Even the Angel of Death,

fat cherub, grins from a shingled
roof.  Hans Christian looks on

from a plain brown stone,
clipped and smart.

They make it art,
not like Sylvia, but good.
They make it sing.

2 responses to “Art of Dying

  1. very much liked this poem and the flamingo but the Like button is not working this end goodness knows why…take care ann

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