Poem for Rudy

The limp

be

the music

the bunions

that still

ache

the heart

with gas

that burns

etches names

we thought

we'd long forgot

faces we never

want to see

whispers torn

from screams singe

free speeches

in our brain

befo' I'll be a slave

lay me down

to sleep rock me

in the bosom of Abraham

in that great gettin' up

mornin' I'm gonna shout

all over God's heaven

listen to the lambs

a cryin'

a cryin'

a cryin'

all a cryin'

the limp

be

the music.

*   *   *   *   *

posted 13 February 2005