nothing more (poem)

nothing more

the very recently departed has some status above corpse

and lies untouched unparty to debate

whether its last possessions be ruled loot or legacy

whether it might be washed, then dressed

then buried in situ, an oblong shallow mound

under cypress branches in a field of asphodel

the very seasoned mourner has some grasp of the import

when tasks produce efficiencies of their own make

whether the shocked expression is recoverable to the practiced face

whether something unspeakable in the pose of sobriety insists

the black-clad ritualists wake up to this

under cypress branches in a field of asphodel

the very end of humanity attached to the human form

to look a friend, our robot must assume a kinder shape

whether our surrogate selves in future search for mates

whether mechanical survivors thermal-sense disobligation

and advertise their wants for situations

the very top of the food chain is in a state of being food

parts that go unused, breeding grounds for mutagens

DNA sent rogue by additives, molecular medicines

Entities without culture, cultures uninterested in entreaties

To sympathies with symbolism, they don’t recall

Why cypress branches, why fields of asphodel

nothing more

Purpose No Secret

(2021, Stephanie Foster)