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Elegy for the Bully

ISSUE:  Summer 2016

You have always been nosebleed 
     and nail-bite, the spit-shined halls 
where you harvested us with your tribal 
     clang. Too long we saw your face 
in every shadow, felt the whole forest 
     await your arrival like a nagging frost.  
We hid from you in toilet stalls, 
     quit band to avoid the music 
room where you waited near your
     locker. Back then, there was nothing 
we could say. In death we greet you 
     now as brothers, your dark 
silence wailing from those glittering 
     trumpets we never learned to play.


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