They walk as if
As if they were alive
But not really, not quite—
Sure if they are
Or if they were
They stay afloat here and there
In the sea of endless seams
Bowels, underneath
Beware! Beware!
They play the siren’s wail
Of beauty and what-not
Of fragmented memories
That haunts and chants
Laughter; anger
Weep as weeping would be.
It doesn’t matter to me.  

Every bone looks the same in the cemetery