Mourn Him by Jesse Glass The old man lies burr-headed beneath a wooden sky, a charred match-stick in a box this savage-jawed boomer sucks the jade lozenge of death, a mask of flies punishing his face finally tamed, he will bother you no more mourn him like a ball-bearing drips oil & light like a slab of oak planed but not sanded, darkens mourn him like a wide-mouthed jar set out all night in a storm © 2002 by Jesse Glass. All rights reserved. Home