Untitled

Untitled
by Tilok Adnan

A frosted, sliding door
waits to be slid opened
and in the darkness a shaft
will spotlight the body

Opened, your head in a frenzy
the mind intoxicated for life
a rope wraps at the torso
just tight enough

Your body is heavily tugged
and your windpipe plays
the tug of war
and the wailing will win

One moment
something can exist
for fifty-six or so years
the next, it is rotten

Had it rotted before -
then, had no one noticed -
who is to blame
(because surely the fault is heavy)?

There is no time for mulling
until the cradle is dug
until the funeral is over
the paperwork is collected

The loans are returned
the moving to somewhere new
the charity and prayers are offered
and your new home is home

Then you find the rest of your life
to question who killed who
and the rest of life
to see life change

Some days are darker than others
and some are brighter
radiating newer life
but what has left, remains

At times the tugging recurs
your torso is pulled out of bed
your windpipe breaks through
and the wailing wins.