Everyone who mourns a death is stripped and shrouded and wonders about their own lives…would life be any different if they changed, if things weren’t so impossible, if things just could have been…
©No One Said His Name Aloud, But We All Thought It
as we sat there smoking cigarettes at four in the morning,
our tears soaking the paper with a hiss,
the only other noise—
someone sniffing, another blowing their nose.
everyone turned and looked at her wondering: where did she get a tissue?
everyone wondering: Why did he have to…
no one asked it out loud.
no one answered.
no one knew the answer.
RayAnna flicked her ashes in the air.
Darrell flicked his cigarette; it landed in the dirt.
we all watched it until the last bit of it died out.
we all knew it was better that way…
who was willing to snuff out its life
the way they snuffed out Frank-O’s?
no one. not this morning.
but we all recognized the symbolism.
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