Bio Note: Recently, I have been reading primary source material collected by the World War Two era Virginia War History Commission of fallen service members of my county. In this poem, my mind jumped to all the poets who die without recognition.
Not Ours to Bury
for Isabella Fairhope Our gray poet has left us, the box Return of Ashes checked on the body donation form and what is useable is no longer hers, but her voice remains her own. She does not care for social media re-reads, gushing eulogies, bragging friendships, wants only for her words to be understood— that a few people who had no hope, might live. When she comes back in a box, I fill bird feeders with her gray grit so that goldfinches, cardinals, and blue birds, can carry her into the world again.
from Conjugation of Perhaps
©2022 Frederick Wilbur
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