What The Dead Forget

The dead look down
shake their heads in disbelief.
We have not yet deduced:
already we’re among them.

The dead, having given up
—willingly or not—their flesh
knowing what they know
look down on us, pity
our pointless clinging.

For our part, breathing
and fucking is everything;
but the dead know different.

The dead call out to set us
straight. The dead do not
recall that we, ears filled
with breath and sex,
no longer hear their cries.

RDP Tuesday — Dead

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