Richard L. Matta
Duplex on the Reading of a Will
I want to tell them death begins a new chapter, but
some insatiable minds want to know how it ends.
Do the old oak trees whisper endings to the leaves?
There's a clumsiness in congregating to discuss death.
Here? A cherry blossom festival setting to discuss death.
I stretch on petal-dappled grass and unhinge my jaw.
Surrounded by petals, I start to unfold my final Will.
Sometimes I mistake underwatering and overwatering.
From a sprinkler can, the careful spilling of the news.
From the sky, parcels of darkness in the shape of crows.
Caws and more caws descend from the blue sky.
I want to tell them death begins a new chapter.
Bio
Richard L. Matta is originally from New York's rustic Hudson Valley and now lives in San Diego, California. He's often on or near the San Diego Bay with his golden-doodle dog. His poems appear in Hole in the Head Review, Healing Muse, Modern Haiku, and San Pedro River Review, among others.