Funeral, Revisited Years Later in Memory

Why is this table so carelessly placed
In the center of the hall,
As if wood would comfort
Or relieve
The ones who listen to the man in Chapel E?

I wonder if dying men concern themselves with
The apathetic gentleman
Sitting by the table
Outside the room full of woefuls...

No one else cares that the shyly potted plant they placed
To accompany the possible mahogany
Has a piece of bright green gum stuck
To the inside of its ceramic white casket.

Out here, we wander in a splendor of fluorescent light.
Maybe they thought the artifice would soothe.

–¿Buscas el baño? they ask me.
But I'm not sure I'm looking for anything at all.

–Busco el cadáver.