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Celebration of Losers

Text of Poem

This morning the roadway lacks friends,
the bench by the garden side is empty.
A bicycle nestled against the arbor
seems remote and no dog enters to smell
the trees, hollow, air boasts no birds,
children stay hidden behind their echoes,
and, poor in spirit, I dredge up my
failures in recollection.

Shall I wear a black armband?
weep in my beer? Not me, boy,
I can still flap my wings.
Tonight I shall throw a dinner for
the mayor of Detroit, a boy soprano,
a major in shining boots, a priest,
and we shall eat crow together
and carve our habits into tombstones
and mark the New Year.

First Line
This morning the roadway lacks friends,
Original Pub Location
Original Publication Date
Original Citation
North Country (Spring 1977) 22.
Complete Poems
Word Count
Poetic Form
Bibliographic Notes

Listed as "Celebration for Losers" in the Ward Bibliography.