Poco - The Wake

The sleek throat is gone—and the breast that was troubled to listen:
they came this afternoon to say goodbye

the place itself is coming and going.
I am firm with each, the pangs are sharp yet unavoidable,

there is nothing that stings like you do
with the taste of the past in my mouth.

The tree you seeded in childhood’s place
something there makes me hear the whole world weeping.

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"Not Marble Nor the Gilded Monuments"-- Archibald MacLeish
“Mourners”-- Ted Kooser
“SEPT.16, 1961, POEM”-- Jack  Kerouac
“The Wound-Dresser”—Walt Whitman
“Skinroot”-- Diomedes,--http://www.protagonize.com/poem/propaganda-1/188945
“The Ditch”-- Thomas Bolt
“The Sonnets to Orpheus, Part One, 4” -- Rainer Maria Rilke
Rumi, Trans. Coleman Barks

The End

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