My Father Died in June of 1964

My Father Died in June of 1964

In Memory of William Earl

It should be the memory of a hammer striking the crude nail
Driving it through the rough hewn pine
Slicing grain into grain

It should be the great effort, heavy grind of stone on stone
Sliding the lid to alignment with vault
Falling solidly, thump, into place

Such sounds and visions would be true reminders of the drama
Moving painfully among breath and dream
Caressing wounds to scars

Yet, what remains is the simple click of metal
Snapping hinges and latches of well insulate springs
Only an insignificant sound

As the casket closes.

-Theo