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THE FUNERAL HOME In the environs of the funeral home The smell of death was absent. All there was Was flowers rioting, the odors blown Palpable as a blossom into the face, To be crushed, to overpower--as if the grass Already covered the nostrils in that place. Hyacinths, larkspur, irises, flags of summer Freshening and quickening in the little Dawn breeze, and opening to a bee's clamor ...