Wednesday, November 26, 2014


a slow breath for death
in heavily     and out
he’s floating     floating
unnnnnhh     ohhh
floating     he’s lying     floating

in a panic she splashes
thrashes through (her murk)* to him
limp     sogged
dead to the brim

overwhelming quaking
oh my God     he’s gone
Maaarrrs     noooo

made his marker
name     dates carved
it’d been a year
bare sod
gray     empty…

“I wanna be a policeman
  ana     ana     a     a     fireman
  yeah     an I can spray the water
  see     an stop the fire
  pishhhhhhhhh     pishhhhhhhh

--RK, 1979, *latest edit (an untold story)
   In memory of Marshall…+
     [published in the New York Quarterly+ in 1979]

No comments:

Post a Comment

Please be brief, thanks. - *smile*