Ecclesiastes According to Lazarus

allow me a breath to resuscitate a few salt-
packed clichés milord all the toil of this life
vapor the plump cheek
withers and pales the egret
circles and falls in time all time fleets
like no time at all the days short to you I
am a beggar at your table standing as if
anything I could say can wait time
on my hands back among the
quick until you’ve finished your chèvre your
digéstif as you puff long time up into vanishing
breaths sated just nibble the crumbs as they dust
the floor it can wait until another life as if I can
exhale it (sotto voce) to you up
or down or laterally or into
the ten directions wherever
it is that that shy
world of the reclusive dead hides where
larynx requires no warm breath to hum
the fallen sparrow into cry as if I can
hold my breath that long and addling DNA
lace back to circling limbs

-- P.Q. Perron