Colleagues Who Die - Poem by Michael Philips
Colleagues who die
kept in my rolodex
alive in circulation
flipping round in ritual
propped up by the living.
Looking for someone else
I sometimes encounter one of them
like a lone winter leaf still clinging to a tree
A silent abandoned phone number, a boarded up building
Touch the card like the Vietnam Wall
The name, the title, the unfinished business
A little flag saying I was here.
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