To Julien
by Timothy Murphy
for Robert Mezey
He mourns you, as only a doting motheror 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.
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