.
today i found your phone
message and one envelope
that you had sent to
me last year before
you became just one more dead
man that I know.
.
you had sent a photo
that i saved and i won’t hold it
against my heart
.
or against you –
.
i for one know the cost of no
interior rest and
i’d not have lasted
as long, whiskey and gun as
backboard or not.
.
well i did save it
just not as a sacrament.
more like a scar that
can still raise a smile.
it’s there in a flat tin, now
second drawer down
.
where the accidents
are filed. Let’s assume you could
not have saved yourself
.
since no one else could
save you. Let’s assume
you’re now comfortable,
warm
loved.
.
orphan poems 