To a Suicided Poet

wiring the bones
back together
sewing the flesh on
the bones
glewing the hair on the
flesh

bending over it
blowing into its lungs
slapping roses into the
pale cheeks
pulling the eyelids apart
& spitting in the eyes
holding an iron trumpet
to its mouth
& waiting . . .
                      for a WORD . . .

"brother why
did you leave us
so soon?
tell us something
to make us strong again!"

"whisper a new world
to us
& we’ll build it
without question."

"get up from
there,
pick up a club
& we’ll follow, singing!"

why do you lie there
                    grinning coward
letting the flies
shit on you?
the ants drag you
away?