A Topiary

I can hear them at the service whispering

"Who could have known his sanity was Gerry rigged"

His body stationary but his head in transit

Beyond a topiary was an open casket

He used to say the universe was born in violence

Stars come together like paint on canvas

Immersed in the afternoon Rembrandt light

A tiny triangle formed under his eye

I didn't have the energy to pick apart the effigy

You can't go trusting history any more than prophecy

"He could be a satan, with a dash of saint Francis"

Death can hide your faults to make your life gigantic