In Memoriam

                (W.D. Snodgrass 1926-2009)

My friend has chosen how to die

in Upstate New York

under a winter sky

with the snow falling

While on this small island

brown people chant for me

"Obama and his Mamma"

with the rain falling.

His thighs the size of your arms

His brain laced with morphine

He listens, an orchestra playing

as the light is falling

Once ordered to these islands

He wrote of the dead

and the dying

'cause he could type words

without crying

His rewards were all earned

His frustrations plenty

The critics' obsession

about his "confession."

And  so, soon to come

the gift of ageing. To be

friendless on a busy planet

with the sunrise fading

But to know one human heart

far across the blue sea

to love that brave heart

means forever he'll be

--Wayne Frank