I wonder whether the casket lid is A death trap like those recalled Drop side cribs that snatched Babies into the jaws of death
But if it is a death trap, it isn’t Inappropriate for this funeral Where my little Christ-love lay Blessed barely an age Before being laid to rest with All this ceremony. All this Ceremony. I’m going to miss this And funeral/baptism cake and potatoes Going off into the worldly world Christ-love less. Loving without Magic underwear and ordinations And special water and oil For anointing and dove Down comforters and man— That casket crib was chock full of stuff I think I can live without. I think I think I can live without.
A very wise Indian fellow, or an Indian fellow we are supposed to think is wise, got awfully judgey when he said it is a terrible misconception that the governing force of the Universe is love. I mean, how sappy could we be? But the thing is, I know the Universe, have met it in a her/him person many times, and I can tell you for certain she is love-powered. She especially loves group hugs and jumping on your back for a piggyback ride. She giggles and sometimes covers your eyes as you run and run and run.