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The dead are the easiest of subjects

eventually. Their deaths are the most

matter of fact instantly.  For, whether

naturally (with a little sigh) or

violently (by nail, rope, then reeling

chair), sent into oblivion, they take

at least two people’s breaths away. Once there –

heaven or nowhere – they may be conjured

and, at first, seem to insist upon it:

his voice, her wit.  Soon (a month or a life),

they become tractable and may be shaped

into keepsakes – leaving behind such a

banal desolation.





© Copyright David Selzer
1 Response
  • John Huddart
    February 22, 2013

    And what a profoundly sensible poem about death. At first the way the adverbs hover to deliver the meaning’s coup de grace. Then the eventual coming to the conclusion of death’s ordinary everyday pointlessness. Witty, clever, moving, true.

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