One Job
Drones have one
job in the hive:
to mate
then to die
No I’m no drone
& this is no farewell note
but I wonder did I had
one job which is done
He is remembered
I did that
I went to his grave
& wrote his poems
Now he lives
as much as a boy
can live in a
pulp paper heaven
Now me
What comes next
in my
post-drone world
8 thoughts on "One Job"
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Corrected version:
Drones have one
job in the hive
to mate
then to die
No I’m no drone
& this is no farewell note
but I wonder did I have
one job which is done
He is remembered
I did that
I went to his grave
& wrote his poems
Now he lives
as much as a boy
can live in his
pulp paper heaven
Now me
What comes next
in my
post-drone world
Wonderful remembrance. Especially enjoyed: “Now he lives\as much as a boy\can live in his\pulp paper heaven” And that existential question we all must ask ourselves lingers.
Love: “I went to his grave/& wrote his poems/Now he lives
as much as a boy/can live in his/pulp paper heaven”
Thanks, Pam. “He” was my uncle, struck and killed by a truck when he was 4. He’s the subject of my first chapbook, which came lout in April.
Man! Hard loss. Glad he lives through poetry. What is the title of your chapbook. Would love to read it.
Never mind! I looked at your bio here and found the title. Look forward to reading it.
Thanks! I appreciate it.
Oh that feeling of “what now” comes through mightily. Well done, buddy.