To You

How will it taste—the beer the gravedigger

will drink after bestowing your dirt coat?

What will he say—you keeled the outrigger

too south, & when the breakers rolled, no boats

heard your Mayday? & will he ask his friends

at the bar—if someone calls a Mayday

& there is no one at the other end

of any radio, did Kevin A.

González really exist? O second

person, what would you do without you? Where

would Kevin A. González hide? Our bond

is over. The red of the rockets’ glare

has faded. Your grave has been dug. Gone too

are the days when I tried to speak through you.