First Call
A Poem From the Play 'DEAD WRONG' by Ryan Michelle
To all those who cannot read this.
First Call—A Poem From the Play 'DEAD WRONG' by Ryan Michelle
I was walking on a Thursday
Through the cemetery square
The eyes rolled back on Jesus
Hanging twelve feet in the air
Water stands in waiting
For a daring sinner’s pleas
But there will be no gasping
Or confessions spilled on knees
I’m tightening the casket
A stranger’s vehicle and more
Flowers devouring the room with color as they wilt upon the floor
My dress so crisp and perfect
As I lean against cold stone
Surrounded by this city
Yet perfectly alone
Emotions float like molecules
I’m breathing each one clean
Then I slink into the corner
Hoping I remain unseen
You come calling on a Friday
My hopes renewed and they restored
As I accepted your thoughts gladly
And my heart began to soar
I rest in dead hands, calmly
The last of warmth about to fade
Tighten up the gurney
Bed impressed from where they laid
The clock it’s loudly ticking
To remind us it overcomes
Laughing at its movement
At the cease of heart and lungs
All the dears they are goodbying
As we roll into the hall
The bell it rings behind us-
You won’t remember this at all
Now I am just the driver
I’ll sing to you this final ride
You can tell me all your secrets
‘Cause now you’ve got nothing more to hide
About the Creator
Ryan Michelle
Actor | Writer | Adventurer
11/2 | O'ahu, Hawai'i
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