Mourning Becomes Eclectic
Call it the spawning of grief.
Brother, enemy, mother, niece,
dad, sister, cousin, friend --
deceased, all but memories gone.
Lover too on the run, vanished, lost,
no longer fondled, kissed.
Spouse of abuse, absent -- bruises
weirdly, also missed. All the beloved
mourned like unsung hymn, lost limb,
stolen gun, burned-out sun.
Timothy Pilgrim is a Pacific Northwest poet with a couple hundred published poems in journals such as Windfall, Cirque and Carcinogenic Poetry.
No comments:
Post a Comment