Elegy for Marjorie
I’ll talk as if neither of us are here,
leaves that cling or won’t fall,
fourth person in the dialogue.
When the body dissolves, a unity
forms around sand and leaves,
the very specific songs of remaining
words. In the absence of lyrics,
we make an assemblage of protests.
In a lyric of absence, we haul
a grammar across that landscaping.
Many meanings reduce to one
when we try to utter ‘development’.
Others will be having this conversation,
too. Now we’ve sorted the issue
of distance. Once. For all. And.
John Kinsella
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