Poems by

The day I died

a poem by Oreen

I heard them celebrate
as if it was Mardi Gras
or some pagan Yuletide
I saw them strip on the streets
and Narcissus practised a smile
in front of the glass window
as the undertaker dressed me up,
dusted the lapel of my jacket,
straightened my paisley
he spotted the cellotaped smile
on my lips like tight damp earth
and pinned a diamond to the brim
of my stetson, which stood up like stuart little,
conspicuous in the crowd.

I hate diamonds,
they steal the attention that is actually due
to me and you.