sepulcher
within
the sepulcher
you soar
your coffin
winged
borne by
winds eternal
black
the sky
numberless
the stars
galaxies
scythe-strewn
tribes
of the dead
welcoming
you
fearful
stranger
everlasting
friend
--Ross Balcom
Poet's Notes: One of my favorite words is "sepulcher"; in fact, I frequently slip it into casual conversations. (Neighbor: "Hi. Nice day, isn't it?" Ross: "Yes. Sepulcher.") I suppose it was inevitable I would write a poem with this title.
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