Lori is currently dead.
Not six-feet-under dead.
But practice-dead.
Her lack of motion
is a sign she is dead.
The fact her breath
fogs my glasses
when I place them above her lips
is a sign
she is practice-dead.
My job is to play
Yo-Yo Ma’s Six Evolutions
Bach: Cello Suites
during the viewing
of Lori displayed
in her casket.
She has no casket
to practice in.
She lies in a cardboard box
that recently contained
the new refrigerator.
Her friends parade past
and view her practice-death
with practice funeral comments:
Such a pity she died so young.
Paul will find a new partner soon enough.
I call dibs on her Beatles albums.
copyright © 2023 Kenneth P. Gurney
Umflop 