Decomposition of a Mentor by Max Clark

Glassy bones hang here
by loose threads of leftover ligament
bearing a grotesque resemblance to a chandelier.

Maybe they were right when they said that
the enlightened ones would crystallize when cremated.

My father did, after all, show me
the wonders of masculinity.

We play baseball and we never smile.
We eat lots of meat and have heterosexual relationships.

It’s strange how the world can miss a man.

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