The Viewing, they called it
Like an open house on a Saturday
A ceremonial worship of God
In church on a Sunday
What a name
For a casket
For vacancy
Of the departed
What a name
For a confined space
A black-out
The altar of emptiness
I suppose they call it, that
For lack
Of a word
The last inspection
Proof for an end
For made belief closure
Inverted soundless sighs
Lingering echoes
Of goodbye
all in void
in absence
blurred out
too brief
Yet persistent
And eternal
To qualify
As a view
In void of you
You, of me
Me, of you
