Eulogy
You died tonight,
And came in a dream to me, holding wood blocks
We made into cities
When I was three; you vanished in your walk.
Scrambling out of that house in Tuckerton,
In the reedy shallows, boats would pass
You would point to them and laugh
hitting swells on the glass.
In the red kitchen,
You’d drink coffee, shining your eyes
At the bay you had dreamed of;
Did I ever tell you that you were a magician?
She just left; was she standing there
As she did the first day you saw her?
Was her mother standing there?
Was it 1947?
Pass out of eventide, into the night
Stumble out of the shadows into the light,
See you standing,
Holding hands.
I hear your voice in my head;
‘our bodies ever kept us apart,
but now we’re one, drifting like the half-mumbled words of a prayer.
You’re not here yet-it’s only a moment for us,
Don’t despair.”
The boat he had, silent, but the motor ran,
looking back, drifting, drifting warm as May
I heard their ringing laughter sound
at boats hitting swells on the bay.
