The Ash Heap
skin settled
arms of dust
lifeless lumps
heave your chest
sneeze life into a mug
and the droplets osmose
identity into the urn
lumpy dust into the cup
and later onto the ash heap
patiently await
incineration,
polish silver
wake ornaments
with rotting fingers
alive only in their dying
poem by Sean Godley
Added by Poetry Lover
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