After the Funeral by Dylan Thomas — Read

(In memory of Ann Jones) / After the funeral, mule praises, brays, / Windshake of sailshaped ears, muffle-toed tap / Tap happily of one peg in the thick / Grave's foot, blinds down the lids, the teeth in black,

The spittled eyes, the salt ponds in the sleeves, / Morning smack of the spade that wakes up sleep, / Shakes a desolate boy who slits his throat / In the dark of the coffin and sheds dry leaves, / That breaks one bone to light with a judgement clout,