what is left

Rio Rancho, New Mexico 2019

the people spoke of god
to speak around death
and the sound flowed
over us and through pews
emptying outside down
the long steps into gutters
they practiced the ritual
I’ve seen rehearsed
but never read the rules

graveside the pallbearers lowered the casket
gray and sleek onto polyester straps
he or the body who used to hold him
ten feet near
his rough voice
like sleet gathering
in the corners of glass
weaves between the mourners
a serpent not yet put to rest

only the voice the voice and this casket
this collection of tissues holding it all together
surly the panels will drift
outward at any moment
when the center lets go
when the pebbled snake
skin sheds and memory
slides forward, oily and difficult to hold

Corbett Buchly’s poetry has appeared in SLAB, Rio Grande Review, North Dakota Quarterly, and Barrow Street. He is an alumnus of Texas Christian University and the professional writing program at the University of Southern California. He currently resides in Northeast Texas. You can find him online at buchly.com.