by Timothy Murphy
for Robert MezeyHe mourns you, as only a doting mother
or an old grandfather can,
as Catullus mourned his brother.
Your death at two—
it was the hardest blow to any man
I’ve ever seen. Now you are ten,
a boy soprano in the choir
where God suspends you on a wire
in every angel’s view
above the basso voices of the men.
Julien, pray for Robert in your heaven.
Let him embrace you when you’re twenty-seven.
To purchase Mortal Stakes and Faint Thunder, please visit http://www.fortmandan.com/news/featured.asp?ID=136