![[Person] died alone and in the morning, surrounded by strangers who catalogued every blemish. Family arrived to confirm the location of each freckle. She was born in [Somewhere City] and died nearby. She is survived by [Someone] and [Some Other] and they’ve already began forgetting, whether they know or not. She never wore collared shirts because they reminded her of her head’s attachment to her body. [Person] died in the afternoon but did not live comfortably past the morning. Their family did not know them and neither do I. [Person] died in his two-car garage next to one car. [Person] liked his cars and his garage very much. He is survived by two cars nestled still in their garage. They cannot visit his grave. [Person] died alone. He had brown eyes that needed glasses. He was born on a farm and dreamt of it. He wore t shirts ordered from Facebook generated by an algorithm & printed at an office and shorts covered in pockets to fill with peppermint patties for their [Person]. [Person] drank chocolate Pedialite as his only nutrient but constantly craved purple grape juice in the end.](/sites/default/files/inline-images/Obituary%20Generator_0.png)
Copyright © 2021 by Mariah Bosch. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on March 17, 2021, by the Academy of American Poets.
Copyright © 2021 by Mariah Bosch. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on March 17, 2021, by the Academy of American Poets.