Succession - Poem by Jeffrey Brown
One morning state police
escort us to your grave
the next my flight is canceled.
Maintenance issues breaking
out all over. You would speak
of a "grand theory," something
tying all this together, but
you had none yourself, none
that reached me then or now
as I drive your car slowly
into the tranquil streets
of my youth. Here is where
I learned to ride a bike, on
this high hill that is no
hill at all. And still I fell.
And now you descend and
still I fall. And here is where
I learned to doubt, in the chapel
where we donned black skullcaps
that meant nothing, I tell you.
If god speaks it is elsewhere.
And here are my own children
rooted and uncertain
watching me speak to you.
You watched the news every night
worried if I did not make "air"—
traveling, sick, useless, lost.
Now that you are gone—
traffic parted by the state police—
can I, too, disappear?
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Jeffrey Brown's Other Poems
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You