Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Elegy for Bumpy

On the most picturesque day
we remain in the house.
Now you have earned your place
in the eternal sun.
As we dot your grave with a marker,
you have already begun to chase birds
stretching your sleek blackness.
Freed from pain and immobility
You dance in our hearts once more.
Songs of your legendary exploits
—now un-sung—
leave the taste of you on our tongues.

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