Daily Archives: May 5, 2009

The Suicides

The suicides
gather on the beach,

laughing through holes
in their throats.  Gesturing
with floppy, open wrists.

is relative, they sing.
We killed
something we thought
was invincible.

The eye of this beholder
fills with tears — is this beauty?
Is bereavement
just a term of art?

Won’t know, they tell me,
until we meet again. Then
we can talk.  Until

you know nothing.