Say milky cocoa we'd say,
you had the accent for it,
drunk, you sometimes would. Milky
cocoa. Preston. We'd all
laugh. Milky cocoa. Drunk,
drunk. You laughed, saying it.
From all over the city
mourners swarmed, a demo against
death, into the cemetery.
You asked for nothing.
Three gravediggers, two minutes
of silence in the wind. Black
cars took us back. Serious
drinking. Awkward ghosts
getting the ale in. All afternoon
we said your name, repeated
the prayers of anecdotes,
bereaved and drunk
enough to think you might arrive,
say milky cocoa...Milky
cocoa, until we knew you'd gone.
by Carol Ann Duffy
Hope it went as ok as can be expected at these things.
ReplyDeleteheh this poem perfectly represents everything that I hate about modern poetry. After I read it, I just sat there and thought, "huh?" and I'm an English Literature major!! I just don't get it. :)
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