A Snowball by Sandy McIntosh

             

                 Ginsberg threw a snowball
                 at Frank O'Hara's coffin
                 at the bottom of the grave.

                 "Damn,"he whispered. 
                 "Damn,damn."

                  *
                 "A lovely, sentimental story," Ginsberg told me.
                 "But not true. Frank died in July. Not much snow.
                  Who told you this?"

                 "Armand Schwerner, I think."

                 "Well, Schwerner wasn't there."

                  *
                 In time,
                 I imagine Ginsberg grave.

                 Nothing sentimental about it:
                 It's a warm day, early April,

                 the grave is opened,

                 a snowball 
                 balanced

                 on its edge.

                                                                  from FORTY-NINE GUARANTEED WAYS TO ESCAPE DEATH
                            
　日本語で読む　 　Copyright ⓒ2007 by Sandy McIntosh/  photo by St Marks Poet Memorials / B.D.'s world

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