the air
hung heavy
in there
a thick woolen coat
moth eaten
tear damp
and hung to dry
in a humid closet
made sickeningly sweet
with flowers
blossoms of regret
of sorrow, remorse
and guilt
and
centering the room
a vessel to the heavens
shiny boat
box of dreamless sleep
the last vehicle of
a permanent goodbye
and
why
all pondered
approaching with breath held
I looked at it
my heart
in double time
and saw him there
but
only his shell
like that of a
cicada
my friend, no
for he indeed
was gone
A
significant snowflake
melted and evaporated
in spring sunshine
gone
along with
his mother’s sanity
her plans and dreams
held dear
she cried out
his name
my name
once shared
and
I could barely
hear her
would not turn
to her face
amongst the blurred
crowded room
with its din of
murmuring whispers
sad questions
echoed
about the chamber
but
I would not
join in
instead I gently
touched him in
his cold eternal
slumber
said my greatest
prayer
and left
long before the
appointed procession
I could not
see him lowered
this friend of youth
of childhood folly
I wished no closure
but
kept instead
memories of
life
eternal smiles
in summer
and now
sometimes
in crowds
I think
I see him there
alive still
and grinning.
—
Matt Longerbeam is a literary enthusiast and artist hobbyist. He lives in Hagerstown, Maryland with his cat Saffron.