Year's End

The state cracked where they left your breath

No longer instrument. Along the shore

The sand ripped up, and the newer blood

Streaked like a vein to every monument.

The empty smoke that drifted near the guns

Where the stiff motor pounded in the mud

Had the smell of a hundred burned-out suns.

The ceiling of your sky went dark.

A year ago today they cracked your bones.

So rot in a closet in the ground

For the bad trumpets and the capitol's

Long seasonable grief. Rot for its guests,

Alive, that step away from death. Yet you,

A year cold, come more living to this room

Than these intruders, vertical and warm.