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.

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