You escape your sister dying
as we make friends with death
at dinner: leftovers and bottles

of red wine to replay our side
of magnificent dear departures
rich with pride, all the ashes

left to live in symbolic places—
living monuments wrought
by hand to absorb our grief.

We knew them all, see them
stand around the table being
near, each fine quirk strong

as when they breathed mirth
into their last words we call
forth as we remember them.

We move up a growing list
with boozy laughter knowing
we’ve done well, been lucky

despite diminishing diversions
well-beyond this moment full
of exceptional examples.

                                                  for JEG


6 responses to “LEFTOVERS

  1. The dual pain and happiness of remembering those no longer with us. Beautifully done, John.


    Liked by 1 person

  2. It’s an especially hard time of year for remembering.


  3. God Bless and comfort


  4. John, I’ve been reading this all day long. It was forwarded by JEG2. Amazing insight all-around. Thank you for writing this. – Rich


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