The Writer's Life: Film & Book Reviews, Observations, and Stories
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177

She applied ointment
To his wrinkled neck, as if
To her long lost son.

April 12, 2009   Comments Off on 177

In a very passive voice

It can’t be said he died, but rather
was lost in translation, widowed and orphaned,
formatted with black borders, and went
permanently out of print, leaving a remainder
mark on the single extant edition.
Death couldn’t overtake him;
she didn’t know how.
Dad simply made the big deadline,
went to the spelling checker in the sky,
had too much lateral mobility, and took
that eternal off-site assignment
he always wanted—while I, reformatted
in a very, very passive voice,
cried, nonetheless, and told the asshole
that I loved him.

(I am indebted to Jeff Craig for many of these expressions.)

April 12, 2009   Comments Off on In a very passive voice