Last Minute Chore

When I was active at the Versifier, I met a fellow I knew as Loisseau - and his work never failed to impress me. He quickly became one of my favorites. A month later or so, The V joined the IBPC and turned in their first 3 nominations, one of which was by Loisseau, properly known as Jim Fowler. This piece took ahold of my insides somehow, made me see things about the grieving process that, even having been through it, I had never really considered. It's amazing the things we'll do for our dead loved ones, and sometimes equally amazing what they ask of us.

He took second place for June's IBPC, and I wanted to share that poem with those who might stop by here who aren't familiar with the IBPC:

Last Minute Chore
by Jim Fowler

We were embarrassed by what
you wanted to do. You made us
promise, strong hands now weak,
wringing the deed out of us.

We drank, laughed self-consciously
that summer afternoon, hot as the red
peppers you considered fertilizing,
your mad fit of immortality.

Instead, your ashes, sifted fine
to feel, were nervously placed
and stirred in two gallons of paint,
bone white that matched no chip.

You on the old shed. Two coats
cover the tears of our craziness.

Poetry