for Bam at 103
Your ravaged eyes picture librettos
long known by heart,
as you mouth the arias’ words.
Never bored, your
fragile limbs venture on dream trips,
escapades missed in your youth.
Ripe resonant voice
tells of discussions with Dad,
decades dead, your sweetheart still.
This frail hand I hold
opens in generosity -
probes toward the void -
could wave in the night
goodbye
and no one see.
Year:
2016
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