ON A TRASH HEAP: A mortuary meditation 

    The old motor is silent
    & battery drained

    My spark plugs have corroded
    & chassis needs a change

    This vehicle is at a standstill
    far from any freeway

    On a cracked, bug-infested windshield
    a marker states:
    YOU ARE INFORMED 
    that your vehicle is parked unlawfully.

    Shortly thereafter, a tow truck hauls
    this clunky body away

    Stripped of valuable parts,
    I am melted down
    then reincarnated 
    into a gaudy behemoth

    sure to experience
    a similar fate.


Ron: So this is how we end up – on the trash heap of history?

Lis: Essentially. Feels weird to know that we are on a mountain of bones, eh?

Ron: We have to make peace with our own skeletons. Sometimes that's not easy.

Lex: We should thank the skeletons of the past for allowing us to experience this moment.
     Once we have a sense of gratitude, peace becomes effortless.


=====================================================================================
from _Last Poems: Lost Poems_ by T Newfields
SUMMARY: A poem and conversation about death using automative metaphors.
KEYWORDS: death poem, demise, death as a scrap pile, quietus, annihilation, termination

Author: T Newfields [Nitta Hirou / Huáng Yuèwǔ] (b. 1955 - )
Begun: 1996 in Tokyo, Japan ✠ Finished: 2022 in Yokohama (Japan)
Creative Commons License: Attribution. {{CC-BY-4.0}} 

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