who shall lionize
this deceased?
and where
pray
tell
shall the bodiless
be interred?
i know not
where to
lay bouquets
nor what color
on such
civic holy-days
that celebrate
my dear departed.
the stones i
have accumulated to mark
a graveside visit
stack cold
hurl them at the walls
of this always glass
but newly transparent
house of cards.
shatter or bounce. who cares?
when dreams die
the pain sears
as befits that without which
we choose not to endure
but must.
no photo legacy
survives
just memory of what never
was but might have
five stages they say,
but stuck,
i persist
in resisting
acceptance.
my country ’tis of thee
sweet land I dreamed to be.