Ashley Asher's Urn Is Here

Somebody's dead.
Something's arrived.
And nobody agreed on what happens next.
This poetry collection doesn't explain itself.
It just hand's you what's left.
Swagger.
That curdles.
Ordinary days that go feral.
A voice too busy.
Performing its own life to notice.
When it's already over.
No arc.
No lesson.
Just what's left standing.
When the yellow smoke clears.