Wakes

Can you hear us?
Even though your ears are plugged
With wax
And whatever else
They pumped into you
For preservation

If I stare long enough
I swear your chest moves
And your eyes flutter
Under all that make up
To give you the picture of health

So you're all packed up
And ready to go
The future president
The proud father
Of children we'll never know

Come on, wake up!
It's not too late
Just sit up and say
It was all a big joke
Before they close the lid

And make it final

(dedicated to my step-brother Chris, 1973-1992, who died rather quickly of renal carcinoma before the rest of us could even grasp the fact you had cancer...)