Death is never convenient

Death is never convenient. Assuming a wet call later
might intrude, had kofta on a platter grounded fresh
but the journey to Washburn cemetery again comes
into my focus. One or two shy rings, she gone. Again.

If research is required, look under eternal return. The
card catalog is also oak with burls and sliding drawers.
Warm again the southern breeze shows a brief promise
of spring. Route 307 wet has only seven ups and downs.

Green veins swollen under south winds reveal hid blood
that never can be resurrected in the way intended, dry
after the extraction is the way this goes down, a socket
that will not bleed. Holy water forming tears on the oak
after a roll on the carpet with a box and her pall re-folded.

When should be is resolved to is but nobody noticed but me.