At One Summer’s End (for Billy)
Sometimes, when we’re gutted by loss, we go ahead and sing about it. This Mississippi poet does just that.
Your wA line will take us hours maybe;
Your wYet if it does not seem a moment’s thought,
Your wOur stitching and unstitching has been naught.
Your wYour w—W.B. Yeats
Your windshield
Your wunstitched into glittering
litter. Your arteries
Your wlikewise undone, restitched
for the casket, open, but
Your wsoon sewn closed by hinge
and dirt. I miss you, old friend,
Your wand when I visit your
grave I’ll read you your beloved
Your wYeats and rip
the pages into angry
Your wconfetti fallen
among the grass and silk
Your wflowers. I will not clean
it up. You left
Your wsuch a mess, Billy. You left us
all such a mess.
About the author
James Dickson teaches English and Creative Writing at Germantown High School, just outside of Jackson, Mississippi. He is an MFA graduate from the Bennington Writing Seminars and the recipient of Mississippi Arts Commission fellowships. His poems, book reviews, and essays appear inThe Louisiana Review, Spillway, Slant, McSweeney’s, and his debut collection,Some Sweet Vandal, was published by Kelsay Books. He lives in Jackson with his wife, their son, and a small menagerie.
- James Dicksonhttps://www.salvationsouth.com/author/james-dickson/
