| 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.