your waxen figure

when i think of you
i am struck by how little i know about you
not as much as the year before
which was always

how a person can be real
and yet subsumed
collapsing in on themselves
so they become a black hole
containing everything
our petty, childish hopes

i rarely visit your place now
it has no connection to me
like the waxen figure at the funeral
it represents detachment

we could not find your brother
i don’t even know his name
nor the names of your father or mother
when i asked people shrugged

in this way i prove myself your son
carving myself anew
from whatever material
presents itself
like those delicate foam gliders
cut from hamburger trays
that you taught us to make
when we were little

Moores Hill
June, 2014

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2 thoughts on “your waxen figure”

  1. Hey Kit…. I have read your poems a couple of times. I like how to take the stuff of your life to create these emotions with words, because with each reading I felt in my spirit a kind of soft melancholy. Continue to write… God bless you my friend.

    Liked by 1 person

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