Great-grandmother Died
She was life instinctively clung to,
Because death
And the certain innocence of new seed
Demanded it.
The doctor certified the end of life—
The steady, regular functioning
Of the body’s soft machinery
Stopped.
That’s all he meant.
Quietly on display
Seeming not to smell the gladiolas
Or even mind the puffs of laughter from back corners,
She thought about how final it is
To release the soul.
For our part we managed
Spilling the required tears.
Six hands on the cold steel bar.
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