John Samuel Tieman: Elegy for a Poet

Michael Castro 1945 – 2018
 
 
while the snow wants to melt 
winter loiters and I will listen
 
I will listen for you when I need a noun 
a sudden muscle
 
an animal can use to advantage
when I need the verb you will remind me 
 
poems are not words 
poems are ordinations 
 
there are seeds that want to be roots
there is a hunger that opens its mouth
 
these are our broken times
broken by desire or nostalgia or art
 
you burned your poems like incense 
you stirred the ash that fell from the word
 
soon the snow will melt enough
to blend with the language of grief 
 
I will listen for you in the oak's clear root 

Copyright 2019 John Samuel Tieman