GANG OF GREEN

Dolores rehearses death,
snuggling into the casket,
fingers pulling the colors
out of the sunset until
her face glows moon-like
in the absence of light

She calls the gang of green
to carry her coffin to the sea,
their small shoulders sagging,
pointed feet scuffing grass
as they march, sing, and chant
mossy farewells lamentations.

Dolores sits up and giggles,
thanking the gang of green,
trying to spring from the box
but they batten down the lid
and lower her into the soil, 
tamping sod with emerald toes.

—Jacie Ragan

Find out more about
Jacie Ragan's writings at
The Locus Databases.

All rights to this poem belong to its author.

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