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Years End

 The state cracked where they left your breath
No longer instrument.
Along the shore The sand ripped up, and the newer blood Streaked like a vein to every monument.
The empty smoke that drifted near the guns Where the stiff motor pounded in the mud Had the smell of a hundred burned-out suns.
The ceiling of your sky went dark.
A year ago today they cracked your bones.
So rot in a closet in the ground For the bad trumpets and the capitol's Long seasonable grief.
Rot for its guests, Alive, that step away from death.
Yet you, A year cold, come more living to this room Than these intruders, vertical and warm.

by Weldon Kees
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