Valedictions

David Lake
As time goes smoothly on
I am brought often to a sudden        stop
by the way things
end

with so little fuss.
What may be drama for the thing concerned
is for the onlookers an unevent
merely a gap
a minus feature of the landscape;
its curtain call
a sound of one hand clapping
(mine).
It might be a tree, a bush, of many one,
or of friends, any one.
Business continues as usual,
schedules will be met

-- Am I the only one
who  cannot forget?
(I, who regret
even the extinguished insect
you wash down the sink, leaving a gap in air) —

mourning may not be practical
but this mute-ability
leads only to a dull despair