Friday, April 30, 2010

For Richard

Favorite Uncle

The taste of metal on my tongue
pales in comparison to the cut of your frail voice
into my soft palate.

I want to say:
Don’t go.
I’m not ready.
That hug was not supposed to be

But it is not a time for selfishness.
So instead, I pray
for your peaceful release
from this disease and its slow, cruel feast.

I see you glide
without effort or pain
into your mother’s outstretched arms,
as the warm brightness of a never-ending April afternoon
pours over you

Richard and me, circa 1970.
Rest in peace you sweet, funny man.

1 comment:

Badger said...

Aw, that was beautiful, but I am so sorry. :(