Arsenic Lobster poetry journal Final Issue 2018
The Satin Lining of the Casket Reminds Me of a Jewelry Box
Charles Rafferty

Consider the brooches of the dead, the wedding rings, the lockets full of faces. Assuming they
don’t get stolen by the men with shovels, such ornaments outlast everything. They are a kind of
death tax, a toll on the way to oblivion. It isn’t just jewelry. There are Bibles and flowers and lucky
stuffed animals. We pack them in like we’re burying a pharaoh, like there’s a pyramid of grief
above them. And there is – but smaller, and made of sand, in a land that won’t stop raining.

About Charles Rafferty

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