Leave-taking
The dark angels
the ferrymen
are everywhere
lounging beside the men
outside of the meat market
in the early morning
when the clock has just
struck seven
in the Starbucks
when it is nearly empty
making small talk
and swilling their lattes
leaning out
from the tin-roofed taxi
and offering to take us
anywhere we’re headed
they’re all around
last night they carried away
a good man who was loved
and who will not
be forgotten
like a jewel
fallen from the sword hilt
his place is empty
in the infinite
panoply of the sky
the starlight of his spirit
is gone from the heavens.
