Death’s Omnibus Anthology

Who knew this was a guilty pleasure?
I read them all in an afternoon, each one,
Poems as bonbons, as some people
Chew through novels, another mystery
Every time they get in the bath to soak.

One wonderful thing about reading
A whole volume of elegies in a row is how
Final the present, this ordinary day,
Begins to feel, as if now’s already over—
Which it can’t ever be—already done.

They don’t lack for plots, these elegies.
They’ve got plenty of graveside scenes,
But I’m uncertain what it was drew me on,
Kept me going. Why was I carrying on?
After the first grief, I sought others.