Into the Wreckage

Here was a party of aged men, Their glasses raised at the moment now Forever spun sunwhite and translucent. They used to toast: When I die, Love, hang me by The tweeds in the bedroom closet. And bring me out on holidays, Sit me down the table a ways, A little more tattered each time But serviceable yet. Until some year you come and find Me grown moth-light and firmament, And I will be content. On my way in I passed ten million men And women crying, My brother! Oh God, my brother! The crew holding the line stood stunned; Brothers themselves, they hadn't known There were so many brothers in this town. Here was a coffeemate, an insole, a purse. We told ourselves it could have been worse, Though we'd forgotten how. Oh, when I die Make me many things, but first A shady place where children play Under a spreading tree whose boughs Spill white petals across the way, Where lovers walk, long after this day Is set, and my dust dispersed.