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David Bueno
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Dirge
I have just come from a funeral
My lover's, which is to say, my own.
Seven months after his death
I went looking for his grave.
I was no relative, only a lover.
It was a fine graveyard
In the shade of a tamaranind
Stood many graves
Going away into the distance
Into a vista of cipreses.
I threw roses on the grave
Of one Yunus Kahn
It was the wrong Kahn
But my tears were real.
And my perfumed prayers reached him
My lover would accept anything
As long as it was from me.
He was playing hide and seek
Even in death.
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And I smelled all of roses.
And I smelled all of roses.
And I smelled all of roses.
And I smelled all of roses.
What is a funeral in the wake of the funeral
Of all Irak.
I haggled for oranges
In the marketplace
Where we haggled for love's price.
And I smelled all of oranges.
And suddenly I smelled all the orange grooves of Irak.
And I smelled all of oranges.
And I smelled all of oranges.
And I smelled all of oranges.
And I smelled all of roses.
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