A Ball at a Funeral

It was a ball at a funeral
the light of chandeliers
reflected on the polished
wood of nailed-shut caskets.

The dancers waltzed among
the mourners who cried
in all manner of voice
and tongue.

It was, or seemed it was
the end of the beginning
or maybe
the beginning of the end.

Some guests had danced before
and some had mourned and
others had done both
but none could quite remember.

As the evening drifted by
the dancers stopped dancing
and the mourners ceased mourning.
They saw each other for the first time
and were surprised.

The hall was empty after that:
the caskets buried,
the chandeliers extinguished.
Tobacco smoke still drifted along
the ceiling and some wilted flowers
were lying on the floor.

It was an evening
I hope will never be.