He was killed instantly last Thursday

though the father, blacksmith's bellows,

worked tirelessly ten minutes or more

blowing air into tiny lungs that would not

inhale, could not exhale.


It was raining last Thursday, and the wipers

on the windshield of the pink Cadillac,

unlike the father, weren't working,

and the driver got distracted

by a blue umbrella patterned

like the mosaic dragon in Parc Güell.


He had been in Barcelona

one Sunday in 1967,

met a dark-eyed girl on the Via Roma,

chased her into turquoise

waters, and when he left

for London on Wednesday, he found

he had lost his keys and more.


All things come to an end,

life and love just a few of them.

And I, not noticing

the chaos on the sidewalk,

sailed calmly on.


Not Without Poetry Prompt Day 4: Grab a book of poetry. Try not to be too picky. From the last line of the first poem, take a word or phrase and write it down. Now, from the first line of the last poem, take a word or phrase and write it down. Now, from a random line from a random poem somewhere in between the first and the last poems, take a word or phrase and write it down. With those three words or phrases, and this picture, write.


The book of poetry I grabbed was "The Art of Losing: Poems of Grief & Healing" edited by Kevin Young. Poem 1 was "Musée de Beaux Arts" by W. H. Auden, and the last line is "Had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on." Poem 2, the last in the book was "Train Ride" by Ruth Stone, and the first line is "All things come to an end." I randomly picked the third poem "Luke and the Duct Tape" by Coleman Barks, and the line is "He was killed instantly last Thursday."