James Moore Poet Narrative

Notes About The Poem

In Memoriam

("A Migration of Ghosts", 2023, original encaustic)

In the morning I lay in the bath
Slowly waking with a cup
My mind drifts half asleep.
Eventually I start to count
All the people I have met and known
Close and distant
Who are gone.
At first it’s an easy couple of handfuls
But then the longer I soak
The more the numbers add up.
Eventually several dozen names and faces
Have marched across my memory
Each one smiling for an instant
Caught in a moment of what I knew them for.
A parade of sorts, young and old
Which once opened to won’t seem to stop.
It’s not like I’m merely an observer either
Safe in the warmth of my bath,
Like them I’m moving inexorably from here
To there
A parade of sorts, each with our own allotted light
Candles big and small, dull or bright
But in the end nothing but a memory
In memoriam we erect in honor
Without a site.

(5/15/26)

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