Poem in Memory of David Ignatow
I remember being there
in the library watching you
read, a specter, a ghost
of a human being, the words
barely audible in that sacred room.
You warned us of a life in which
grown men raved for their paychecks,
normal people were sent away
to spare rooms and loved ones
cried for more than we could
give or even promise. Forty years later
I still remember you, resolute horror,
fastened like a scar across my hideous eyes.
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