A Funeral In Bangor

I know how I’ll dress when you’re gone waist small as two fistslips laquered black,black as the pineI’ll rap with my knucklesto see you out, to see youspun into cinderson a loom at which Death toiledwith sympathetic fingersturning dustinto gold I know how I’ll stand meeting the shiftinggaze of any who thoughtI was a shadowfromContinue reading “A Funeral In Bangor”