Crematory Dust floats
in it’s Vacuum Universe
then is breathed in,
latching to lungs the combined remains,
leftovers of those who paid -
decayed shrapnel
might crystallize
and lure one
to the dusty
hall of niches,
the fountain pipes
are dismantled,
and not many
visit here anymore.

Wilted flowers, cracked and dirty glass,
plastic trash left by maintenance men with no curiosity.