How long to grieve for the aspens, how long
for the father, half-paralyzed drugged up & pissing in
a plastic orange juice jug, & Christ, aren't you sick
of the endless mournful processional, the on & on song
of the ending of everyone, can we get on the dance floor
even if the music is tinny & wrong, & the mother took so long,
ten years of shuffling down a corridor, pushing a walker,
never mind, who cares, shut up, bong, bong, bong
go the church bells, By my lively voice I drive away all harm
was the inscription once, & in the fields the sheep
went along baaing & banging their bronze bells in old Rome
keeping the terrible spirits at bay, now go to sleep,
how long for the goddamned cat, what's wrong with you?
Just because it's night, and raining. Me too, me too.
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