(v2) “Cowards write in passive voice,”

[matsunosuperfan]

“Cowards write
in passive voice”

Kenny ate both barrels
openly, a drunk without a bag,
the lick of grief beneath his voice

a twist of limoncello in a glass
he looked through with regret
to see the future better.

Victor, having slipped a needle
gently into place where he knows nobody
will find the hole, collapsed

a flannel sleeve into a dog
opening its mouth around a stick
of uncured meat.

The police report attached
to Daphne’s body like the moon
described the most astonished smile

a man or child has ever seen
as “declared deceased.”
She has not been buried

to our knowledge, to this day.
When Soraya unalived
herself, they wrote a piece about her

naming all the people she had touched
with her reviews. A song about living
without regret, I think

by Dolly Parton or somebody sweet like that
was played at the memorial. The sky was hung
with scraps of sun. It didn’t mention death.
 

first draft - 
“Cowards write
in passive voice,”

he’d grimace almost every week
before he left two perfectly good shepherds

traumatized. He ate both barrels
open as a drunk without a paper bag,
the grief tattooed across his voice

that somehow went unnoticed. It was noted
I did not speak on the alcoholic body,
couldn’t spare a minute’s spit to call

his widow back, she who made me brilliant
meatloaf in September when I came.
Declined to leave a message

like the others did so easily, a coin
to fill the piggy in memoriam. 
Could not convince my voice

to reproduce again the proper sounds
into the square of satellites
that spy on everyone—I knew

you would hear it all
if I had called you lover. But certain

promises were broken;
some mistakes were made.