Please remember when you die to just drop it.
These slender senses do vie to trust no pocket.
Dad is gone and I look at his photograph,
had a long glance and took apart his laugh.
He finally found his glasses
and we just keep laughing.
He fought those final matches
and we must keep laughing.
Common place grief runs in to face relief.
Obsessed with death I caress this fret.
Put your hands up. They are tied up in a knot.
Eyes behind the arms know memory cannot rot.
