Edward Hirsch
Lay these words into the dead man’s grave Next to the almonds and black cherries – Tiny skulls and flowering blood-drops, eyes, And Thou, O bitterness that pillows his head. Lay these words on
In Memory of Dennis Turner, 1946-1984 A hook shot kisses the rim and Hangs there, helplessly, but doesn’t drop, And for once our gangly starting center Boxes out his man and times his jump