they put you through

they put you through
the incinerator so
fast yesterday
those who were still
standing felt a gusty
between their fingers
as they reached
out to cleave to that
last goodbye

and you were
that final,
dead knot
at the end of a string
of beads, burnt,
securing us
so that we may
never again
come so undone


  1. slpmartin

    Very intersting way of addressing this…it reminded me of when my grandmother died…and how she was the knot that bonded all the children and grandchildren into a cohesive unit…nicely said this poem.

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