Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2013
It tapers towards the bottom,
inverse conical,
mimicking an egg.

it is a tradition among these people,
to have in their hands,
even in youth
the urn that will one day house them.

their compacted fingers, lips, and eyes,
in lacquered earth bounty.

the urn that will one day house my ashes will sit on my shelf,
naked and ready.
Written by
c quirino
911
   Kassel D
Please log in to view and add comments on poems