Eulogy for Wolf’s Point
The gravediggers come
with backhoes and augers
drilling deep within the last spit of green
to lay strong foundations for their
epitaphs of steel and glass
like adolescent frat boys
comparing erections that stand
like tombstones against the sky.
Friends gather at the shore
throwing a Frisbee up in the air
and all marvel at the spinning colors that
shine in the sun only to tumble into the grave diggers’ muck
tainted – the colors dull to match the surrounding debris.
The friend’s chanting continues
playing with toy boats as
their eyes stare into their own reflections
and muster only a few petals
sprinkled on the empty waters
encased in the concrete casket.
The city of broad shoulders sports
a tattoo seared into its cultural fabric
as their Emmanuel is trumped -
a people condemned to look down
their treasured corridor to be
forever reminded of the folly
-many worthy resolves deterred -
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