Salle Des Departs
I heard a story about this
musician who was commissioned to write
a piece for a morgue.
A stretch of violins and
angel-esque voices to
comfort the family of the victim.
This does not comfort me.
If I were called to go identify a loved one,
Drove to the morgue, processing
as I passed all of the living
walking on the sidewalks.
All these people who are not my family sitting cold in a morgue
across town.
So when I get there, I want to hear nothing.
No pretentious stringed instruments I hear in the
movies in the similar scene.
I want to deal with the silence.
Deal with the heartache.
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