Your name used to ring like a liberty bell.
The only Josh I knew, somehow.
Singular. An individual.
More tattooed skin than bare and usually,
in my memories, with hair as blue as the west coast sea.
An outsider. Unusual. Anyone could see that.
Everyone knew that, gathered for the funeral under the tree.
No one knew what you were thinking that day.
Original. Alone. You should have known better.
Now that you've left us we all write letters
that would've been better if they'd been delivered,
epistles of sorrow but mostly just love.
Somehow you didn't see how big the hole you left would be.
It's a lot like the one we left you in, ragged edges and raw dirt,
cigarettes sent six feet to infinity.
The earth takes back her own
and you are gone, motherfucker, gone.

05/12/2011

Author's Note: in memory of my friend who ended his life may 29 2010. may he rest in peace.

Posted on 05/13/2011
Copyright © 2025 Lisbeth Black