A Funeral in Winter
Early darkness; as oil we drip on tarmac,
a gathering in black fallen from the sky.
With lemon faces we shadow the next.
Tears empty and clear; cutting out the jabber
still alive we drift over cobbles. Arms alongside
too distant and too close, much too close.
The crows send us back into the rain,
a brass aside breaks the ring, a hole in life.
We stare into; is that all?
Leslie Philibert's Other Poems
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