This is an old poem, and I think it’s bit heavy in the adjective department.
The bubblegum smacked pink
between her teeth as death
seeped out, her saliva sweet
with the aroma of acted-agony.
That customer service smile–
elegant in its vacuous irreverence,
bled the tune of protocol.
Paperwork, the crisp certificate
of the deceased, is solicited
in indifference. Her reception
glitzy, giggling through our grim
expressions and glossy balloon eyes.
We sign, eliciting relief as our somber
dose of life, diaphanous in nature,
masquerades as durable.