Diminution
by Michael Keshigian



On a tree
by a narrow street
upon an bending bough
I perch in a dream
unseen
over people in a field
hovering about
an empty hole
obstructed by a box
with contents
of what use to be me.
Some are sobbing,
most are somber
and few hide
a reluctant obligatory glint.
All see the hyphen
between random dates
engraved upon granite,
transform my toil
to a trophy abbreviation
for living.





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