they had a wake
for aralee strange
in a bar
where university poets
showed up to behave
like academic sharks
sparring with street poet jets
i sat beside a man who was
a monolithic Jewish Poseidon professor
on a funeral date
wrong for me
i,
equally wrong for he
though it doesn’t keep me from missing him
weeping openly
in a room full of
a species of staue
films of her played
as her southern voice caused
candlelit
unbloomed lily buds
in table vases
to burst open