Seal those scenes of sorrow
in ashy vesuvian vaults.
Cement the attrified movement
away from reach of even thought
lest the brushes of countless rehearsals
carve bad memories into monsters
who eat the best and leave the rest
till only, only what’s offal remains.
But first, hammer the good in gold
in high relief upon the lid.
Honor the newfound kindred
and kindness those twisted statues bred.
So if by chance this grave is excavated
only the lovely is ever celebrated.
The beautiful cover hides what’s hated
The inside unheeded, is never raided.