Quiet
by Tony Hoagland
Prolonged exposure to death
Has made my friend quieter.
Now his nose is less like a
hatchet
And more like a snuffler.
Flames don't erupt from his mouth
anymore
And life doesn't crack his thermometer.
Instead of
overthrowing the government
He reads fly-fishing catalogues
And takes
photographs of water.
An aphorist would say
The horns of the steer
have grown straighter.
He has an older heart
that beats
younger.
His Attila the Hun imitation
Is not as good as it used to
be.
Everything else is better.
************
Hmmm. I wonder why I relate?
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