"But first, baby, as you climb and count the stairs (and they total the same), did you, sometime or somewhere, have a different idea?
Is this, baby, what you were born to feel, and do, and be?"

-Kenneth Fearing

Saturday, July 2, 2011

Lip Service


You wave your magic hands

as if you can heal when you want to.

As if given the inclination, you could open

the coffin lid, and raise him up,

as soon as you said “Come forth.”

You say that you knew him, as if you remember

that one communion twenty seven years ago.

But you don’t need to know him. You have the notes.

You talked with mother, father, brother.

So when you say he’s “pitching” for us,

you expect us to smile

thinking, isn’t that just like him?

Some of them believe you. They buy your white robes

and your whitening hair. They admire the way you sprinkle water

and the verses you hand selected from condolences in your

holy official concordance.

But I don’t see him in your speech or in your verses,

I think it’s too late to baptize or anoint him.

The clearest fact, is that you didn’t know him, and

no one who did has influenced your notes.

Kind Father, Intercessor, Matchstick Man

                                      -Brent Allard

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