the eulogy

to those of you who knew my father, and fill this room
with sustained applause, demanding encore after encore,
i've left your daggers at the door, take them to your hearts

here is my mourning, captured from death's swarm,
here is my scene, where i am fully dressed in stolen
sorrow, wigged and blushed and with the greatest art

a noble son, for i am my own eulogy, and my tears
have pocked this glimmered mask, my grief sustained
is surely through another's weaving, for this day

marks the ending of his magics, marks the cleansing
of his bitter flatteries, so i may sleep without my ancient
hesitation, knowing with a fullness that his breathing's

done