~ Donald Justice
 
A song went looking for light,

But that is another story.
Cities burn behind us, the lake

Glitters: Do not bother with odes,

My son, an elegy is preparing itself

For the suicides of 196__.
The grandfathers holding this poem —

It was his story, it would always be

His story: June 13, 1933 —

Know (like a deserted beach,
A map of love, nostalgia) one

May depend on these old cemeteries.
The poet: re: the question of

Self-portrait as still-life,
The classic landscapes of dreams,

Unflushed urinals, & his voice
Through the smoke & dull flames

Of purgatory …
When the lights go on uptown,

X, you would not recognize me.