laying out the dead

standing back
I look at your unnecessary body
the neighbor women have done their job well
now bathed
you lie dressed in white
we are too poor for a shroud

in the dining room
you repose center attraction
resting upon the only table long enough
on which you can stretch your legs
in the only room large enough to
hold the many who gaily dance where you
once walked

you are the only sober soul
and me
amongst these celebrants
who regale you
honor you
assault your memory
rejoice in forfeited debt
whisper
or perhaps ask your name
some eye the daughters
you can no longer mind
a few
even mourn you

the pints are raised
sláinte mhah
sláinte mhah
but good health has failed you
or do they toast themselves
the old fairy’s keening now paid
her bean sídhe wail goes silent
yet the evil ones remain
no more do they fear her song

these maudlin drunks
hoist and carry you to the church
they sing and cry your praise
each one more somber
drunker than the last
your holy man prays over you
but here no beads are laid upon your breast
for you and they are Ulstermen
and together you have
your own heaven and hell

alone I have come home
enter the door
but it denies you entry
your long days of labor to go unfilled
no thought do you give our debt
your favorite meal lies cold
and always will
your unfinished work done

nevermore will you lie
with me
nor your strong hands hold me
I still see our lovemaking
and your laughter
yet never again will I hear its song

where do I take my grief
I who drank only of you
where is the god who will console me
and will I feel his arms
I would follow you
but fear I might lose you in the dark
your death cot stands there empty
as empty as my life