When Old Man Tate died,
there was no space left.
So they said,
“Lets dig up the bodies
and cremate the remains.”
A scuttling crab.
He shed his body,
leaving behind
a movie screen of dreams
What follows,
an unencumbered
sail to the stars.
He would have
found it non-sensical,
this museum for the dead.
But they insisted on the graveyard,
A place for grown children
to house their collections.
Sea shells and sand dollars
and snake skins, too
Sorted and labeled
by those left behind.
Only to be forgotten
in the dusty corners of a mind.
Jana Carrey
June 29, 2004
