THE THIRD DAY Poem by Jan Lauwereyns

The man was old he had no courage had no strength had just
a dog that guided him to scents faint

hints of her his love who'd vanished just like that

he searched and found whatever pencils puppets
things he wasn't looking for but kept collecting photos

of other lovers children waiting good as gold

with yellow hats on doubtless dead now drowned
or crushed by something cracked cold meat

best not thought about the man was far too old

he couldn't get his head round who had died
and why and how or get his head round those still living