ELEGY FOR JOHN WIENERS
Space defines old motels:
maybe the Jayhawker
in Kansas or hitching to Gloucester
for one last
Maximus go round
*
Who burns every letter
lets manuscripts go
like caged butterflies
keeps a room tight, squeaky
clean like vestiges are
no more?
They’ll have to pick through
erasers, chirp like black sparrows
see the beauty in absence
call up treats with invisible ink
dance around the table radio:
Mozart and The Supremes
Bird and a coroner’s cap
*
The stars hold with offshore breezes
the trinity of Olson, Duncan
and you never get left
they just search harder and farther
they just mumble and fumble
your name
—Lawrence Welsh
____
“Elegy for John Wieners” originally appeared in GYPSY