#10

he had a name

some joke about cold tissues

we crafted out of it

but he was coal, I think

stoking the fire of my helpless

heart

he asked me to be his friend

first person who ever did

and he was wild

born for mud and rocks and

tangled rat’s nests

for purple lilies, I know

which bloom still a decade

after death

we were just kids then

was he the same as I remember him?

would he still play that game

of checkers that we promised to?

will he be waiting with the board

and pieces beyond those pearly gates?

If I’d have known, I’d have waited 

first, played first, asked first, 

died first

such a sin that I’m still here

planting lilies in sepulchers