Sunday, August 3, 2014

August Is Like A Month-Long Cemetery

August is like a month-long cemetery—
   The days are tombstones that I wander through.
So many passengers on Charon’s ferry:
   My dad, whom I’ll never be equal to;
My mom, who’s up there smoking Larks in heaven;
   Meir, who would have loved Cold In July;
Brother Gary, still pissed at brother Kevin;
   Michal, whose loss can still make strangers cry.
Part of me likes to think that they all know
   I’m thinking of them; but part of me fears
That when we die, it’s nowhere that we go,
   And all who live weep self-deluding tears.
      Yet weep I will—weep and believe that crying
      Can banish loss with tears of love undying.


Copyright 2014 Matthew J Wells


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