My legs go numb standing there
Grasping the wooden edges to hold me
So long that the usher behind me
Clears his throat to move the line along
I compare the picture above
One last time to what he looks like
The parts that we can see
How they’re so pale under the work
That someone’s done
The best he can to offer
Us a kind of mirror of life
The face appearing as if it’s
An old statue carved like flesh
Warmed it up as best he could
The bluish hands already seem so heavy
When we’d wish they were as light
As if they’d rise and clasp
To pray some book of hours
With time meaning nothing to him now
How the dead no matter what we see
Recline with an ease beyond our ease
Waiting for the end of their service to begin
Lanning Lee 