Elegy on the Death of Someone Else Named David

 He was a shit, and once he set me up
— embarrassed me in front of a whole crowd.

Now that the thread is cut, what do I say?

I search the crevices for some remorse.
It isn’t there and I can’t make it be.
Convention requires gravitas, but I
am sniggering as I mouth platitudes.

David W. Landrum

If you've any comments on this poem,
David W. Landrum would be pleased to hear them.

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