Let's stop whining about the dead
As if they can't overhear us
As if they're not realer
In their way than we are
Of course they have their own
Important business to attend to
Their own personal quarrel
With the way things went
But their real work is you
And me their slow construction
Of a dialogue a story a poem
In which they remember us
As who we must become
When we give up the grave
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