The Funeral as an Act of the Most Extreme Imagination

You can’t get there,
Since there’s defined
As where you aren’t,

But you can use
Sense to pretend
You’re somewhere in

The neighborhood,
Under the floor
Of your bone room,

Hearing the boots,
Feeling their tread
Across the floor

Until the whole
Tolls like a bell
Before you fall,

Bouncing off worlds
On the way down
And then you’re done.