Mama

here I am
            in the ground
                           my mouth
                           open
                      and
           I can't even say
                      mama,
                         and
the dogs run by and stop and piss
on my stone; I get it all
except the sun
and my suit is looking
                                  bad
and yesterday
                       the last of my left
                                             arm           gone
very little left, all harp-like
without music.

at least a drunk
in bed with a cigarette
might cause 5 fire
                            engines and
                            33 men.

I can't
          do
               any
                      thing.

but p.s. — Hector Richmond in the next
tomb thinks only of Mozart and candy
caterpillars.
          he is
                very bad
                           company.