for E.M.S.
Last night the wind whirled,
shook the windows, rain flashed
in the streetlight’s glow, turning
to snow then hail,
while I, dug in at home,
shivered with ancient dread
that you in your grave called
to be let in with me instead,
and seemed to rebuke this unnatural act:
that I could accept you were no more than ash
and let you be consigned to earth.
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