no photograph

The instant of goodbye was gone so fast
that no one in the household took it down;
nor should they have: like every leaving past,
this one had haste, and left a taste of clown.

And on the bus and in home room, they said,
he teased and cracked wise everything that fell
his way, so full of life it blurted red
when in the hallway trigger squirted hell.

And now they beg for fatal hope’s reverse
to take back every second once ignored;
and if they could unseat the universe
they’d do it to the god they once adored.

And so he lies, refusing pleas to rise
erase the horrid image from stark eyes.

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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