Poem in Memory of David Ignatow
I remember being 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 paychecks,
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 your resolute horror,
fastened like a scar across my darkening eyes.