The state cracked where they left your breath <br />No longer instrument. Along the shore <br />The sand ripped up, and the newer blood <br />Streaked like a vein to every monument. <br />The empty smoke that drifted near the guns <br />Where the stiff motor pounded in the mud <br />Had the smell of a hundred burned-out suns. <br />The ceiling of your sky went dark. <br />A year ago today they cracked your bones. <br /> <br />So rot in a closet in the ground <br />For the bad trumpets and the capitol's <br />Long seasonable grief. Rot for its guests, <br />Alive, that step away from death. Yet you, <br />A year cold, come more living to this room <br />Than these intruders, vertical and warm.<br /><br />Weldon Kees<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/year-s-end/
