My poem for TDOR

Remember deaths. Also remember lives
of which death both is and really is not part.
Think of it long enough to break your heart.
And talk of guns and clubs and stones and knives.

Then call a halt, and sing, eat, laugh and dance,
as they would do if here. They’d see us cry.
Not knowing they are dead, would wonder why.
So celebrate for them. We have the chance

which they don’t any more. They partied hard.
Drank when they could afford it. When their luck
was good, sometimes enjoyed a cheerful fuck.
Were happy often. Sometimes found a yard

red silk, blue cotton, cut or wrapped a dress
that looked so fine, you’d see them and shout Yes!


About rozkaveney

Middleaged, trans, novelist, poet, activist
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3 Responses to My poem for TDOR

  1. lokifan says:

    This is gorgeous – and tragic of course.

  2. maellenkleth says:

    Indeed, Roz! Existing is the strongest statement we can make.

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