Here we go for April 1st. The first day our dog is officially 15 years old.
The 3rd day after my Uncle died.
Response to Heather McHugh’s “Etymological Dirge”
Let us pray for the dead, here in the
Dark of wee hours. They have no sun to wake them.
Let us rejoice in the calm of their silence.
The balm of working in the dark
Kindles word to thought, feeling
For instance, tall becomes grand,
as in high in stature mutated to gi-zal
as in quick and soon syllables
race into flame chasing figure eights
setting tunes to win our heart.
Let us pray for the dead, sing requiem
With a coda measured to bring
the idea of some Dominus,
who will comfort our fear
help us swing our invisible tails
as if we were again beautiful,
beyond someone’s idea of normal.
Let us pray for the placers of masks,
worn by living and dead, as we look
at a life, praying for light to define it.