A Poem: Extreme Unction (Last Rites)

Extreme Unction: “Last Rites”[1]

People will suddenly love me when I’m dead.

They will stand in black in a rainstorm
before my grave
and weep tears from eyes
that never used to look twice.
They’ll eulogize the kid they never knew
with phrases like “nicest guy in the world,”
“always had a smile on his face,”
and other non-specific compliments.

What is it about endings
that makes people so fond?
Is the heart made so by the
sudden distance and inaccessibility?

Or are the niceties
the same ones spoken when
someone sees you on the street
at the start of your busy day
waves to you hello
and as you wave back and smile-
(struggling to recall
who the hell that could be
and how on earth they know you)
-you come up with something kind to say
small talk
to stall for time:
“How are you doing?”
(as if you really cared)
“You’re looking good.”
And, before things get too specific
your feet carry you away
like a toddler pulling a reluctant parent
through the toy store,
“Sorry gotta go you understand.”
Sip the coffee,
fumble for keys.

Do we perfume the dead
with words too sweet
verbal ambergris
out of fondness, sentimentality?
Truth?

Or is it that death itself
its sans fragrance
speaks the lie in life
leaving us at
a loss for words?

What’s that first rule of politeness?

“If you can’t say anything at all,say something nice.”

***
[1] ”Extreme Unction” is the formal name given to what is commonly referred to as “Last Rites,” the seventh and final sacrament in the Catholic religion. It is interesting to note that the word “unction,” aside from referring to the anointing of oil in religious services, also means “excessive but superficial compliments given with affected charm” (according to “www.wordnet.princeton.edu/perl/webwn”).