Obituary

Say I never was a waiter. Say I never worked

Retail. Tell the papers and the police, I wrote

One color and wore a torn shirt. Nothing

Makes for longevity like a lie, so I had a few

Fakes and stains, but quote me, my hunger

Was sudden and wanting. I waited, marked

Time with what heart-

Beats I could hear, bumped my head nodding

At home. Some boys walked to my bedroom

In boots. Some of me woke wheezing the next

Morning wherever snow didn’t fall by the foot

In a day. Beyond that, a name. For proof, a finger

Pointing forward. When you measure the distance

Between this grave and what I gave, you’ll find me

Here, at the end of my body and in love

With Derrick Franklin, gift of carnelian,

Lashes thick as a thumb. Some men have a mind

For marriage. Some never

Leave home. If the body is a corporation,

I was the guy in charge of blood, my man

The CEO of bone. He kept a scandal

In my pocket. I sucked in my gut because I wanted

The lights on. Should a fool come looking

For money, say I was a bag boy and a nanny.

Beyond that, a nation looking backward. A smile

That would shine like the last line of cocaine.