Elegy on the Death of
Someone Else Named David He was a shit, and once he set me up — embarrassed me in front of a whole crowd. Now that the thread is cut, what do I say? I search the crevices for some remorse. It isn’t there and I can’t make it be. Convention requires gravitas, but I am sniggering as I mouth platitudes. David W. Landrum If you've any comments on this poem, David W. Landrum would be pleased to hear them. |