It's the other ones, who soon enough return to being happy after the funeral, that are nearest to their own deaths -- in their gaiety and everyday distraction, they're so open and unguarded . . . @3anything@1 could enter them; could claim them. It's the ones who weep incessantly that are saved for now, the ones who have taken a little of it into their systems: this is how inoculation works. And sorrow is difficult, a job: it requires time to complete. And the tears? -- the salt of the folk saying, that gets sprinkled over the tail feathers and keeps a bird from flying; keeps it stationed in this world. Copyright © 2001 by The Modern Poetry Association. This poem appears in January 2001 issue of @3Poetry@1 Magazine. http://www.poetrymagazine.org | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE YOUTH WITH RED-GOLD HAIR by EDITH SITWELL THE SHEPHEARDES CALENDER: NOVEMBER by EDMUND SPENSER THE DEAMON LOVER by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH TO A BIRCH TREE by KENNETH SLADE ALLING SEEING HIS OWN PICTURE by PHILIP AYRES WRITTEN ON A MARBLE by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |