The funeral director opened the coffin
And there he was alone
From the waist up
I peered down into his face
And for a moment I was taken aback
Because it was not Gabriel
It was just some poor kid
Whose face looked like a room
That had been vacated
But then I looked more intently
At his heavy eyelids
And fine features
He had always been a restive sleeper
Now he was weirdly still
My reckless boy
Dressed up for a special occasion
He liked that navy-blue suit
And preened over himself in the mirror
Hey college boy
the guy called out
On the street in Northampton
You look sharp in those new duds
He loved the way he looked
After he stopped taking the meds
That fogged his mind
He admired himself
In store windows and revolving doors
Where his reflection turned
Now he looked rigid and buttoned up
Like he was going to a funeral
On a Friday in early September
Laurie loosened his necktie
And opened his top button
So I could breathe easier
His face was waxen
And slightly shiny
His skin gray and papery
Why were there black marks
Around his eyes
Already a little sunken
His nose slightly deformed
A scab where his lip had bled
During the seizure
He was still handsome
In his fresh haircut but something
Was off he wasn’t moving
He could never stand still but now
Something that had once been my son
Lay there restless spirit
Who left the house one rainy night
And never returned
Lost boy
Who will never be found again
Anywhere but eternity
Uncontrollable fiery youth
Who whirled into any room
And ranted against whatever
Came into his mind
The world was unjust to him
And so he hurled his tirades
And then disappeared
He has the Japanese word for music
Tattooed on one arm and a Jewish star
Tattooed on the other
It looks colored in with blue crayon
You shall not make gashes in your flesh
For the dead or incise any marks on yourselves
I am the Lord
it says in Leviticus
But something tribal had taken root
And he labeled himself a Jew
He downed all four glasses of wine
And sold me the afikomen on Passover
But he did not like the High Holidays
He disliked Sunday school
He was allergic to synagogues
I never saw him crack a prayer book
When he was too young to object
Janet dressed him up for Purim
In a black and white shirt
With a sign on his back that said
Queen Esther’s Little Brother
He roared a noisemaker against Haman
I wonder what he would think
About the short-sleeved shroud
He is wearing under his white shirt
In the casket I hope it’s comfortable
He would have scorned the old Jew
We hired to sit with him overnight
Janet didn’t want him to be by himself
I’m sure he was annoyed by the prayers
I wonder if he believed in God I never asked
He once cut the grass around Emily Dickinson’s grave
In West Cemetery in downtown Amherst
And read me the inscription
Called Back
It reminded him of going to the cemetery
In Houston to visit his friend
Who was now in heaven Lettie said
He experienced the rapture
But Gabriel talked to the gravestone
And clutched a reindeer with a yellow bandana
I wonder if he knelt down and prayed
With the family when his friend died of leukemia
Cousins rolled in the aisle speaking in tongues
Jews stand up to the Almighty
I told him but mostly we just skipped
Out of services and headed to the playground
He was named after Janet’s mother Gertrude
And the angel Gabriel
Strong man of God
He had three epileptic seizures
Suddenly his brain caught fire
He spasmed to the ground and blanked out
Dostoevsky believed the convulsive fits
Bring you down bring you closer
The idiot the holy fool are nearer to God
He was a pallbearer at two funerals
One of my fathers died in Chicago
One in Phoenix I gave both eulogies
The music of death is solemn
He kept hugging me afterward and talked
Like a madman in the car to the graveyard
Like a spear hurtling through darkness
He was always in such a hurry
To find a target to stop
And there he was alone
From the waist up
I peered down into his face
And for a moment I was taken aback
Because it was not Gabriel
It was just some poor kid
Whose face looked like a room
That had been vacated
But then I looked more intently
At his heavy eyelids
And fine features
He had always been a restive sleeper
Now he was weirdly still
My reckless boy
Dressed up for a special occasion
He liked that navy-blue suit
And preened over himself in the mirror
Hey college boy
the guy called out
On the street in Northampton
You look sharp in those new duds
He loved the way he looked
After he stopped taking the meds
That fogged his mind
He admired himself
In store windows and revolving doors
Where his reflection turned
Now he looked rigid and buttoned up
Like he was going to a funeral
On a Friday in early September
Laurie loosened his necktie
And opened his top button
So I could breathe easier
His face was waxen
And slightly shiny
His skin gray and papery
Why were there black marks
Around his eyes
Already a little sunken
His nose slightly deformed
A scab where his lip had bled
During the seizure
He was still handsome
In his fresh haircut but something
Was off he wasn’t moving
He could never stand still but now
Something that had once been my son
Lay there restless spirit
Who left the house one rainy night
And never returned
Lost boy
Who will never be found again
Anywhere but eternity
Uncontrollable fiery youth
Who whirled into any room
And ranted against whatever
Came into his mind
The world was unjust to him
And so he hurled his tirades
And then disappeared
He has the Japanese word for music
Tattooed on one arm and a Jewish star
Tattooed on the other
It looks colored in with blue crayon
You shall not make gashes in your flesh
For the dead or incise any marks on yourselves
I am the Lord
it says in Leviticus
But something tribal had taken root
And he labeled himself a Jew
He downed all four glasses of wine
And sold me the afikomen on Passover
But he did not like the High Holidays
He disliked Sunday school
He was allergic to synagogues
I never saw him crack a prayer book
When he was too young to object
Janet dressed him up for Purim
In a black and white shirt
With a sign on his back that said
Queen Esther’s Little Brother
He roared a noisemaker against Haman
I wonder what he would think
About the short-sleeved shroud
He is wearing under his white shirt
In the casket I hope it’s comfortable
He would have scorned the old Jew
We hired to sit with him overnight
Janet didn’t want him to be by himself
I’m sure he was annoyed by the prayers
I wonder if he believed in God I never asked
He once cut the grass around Emily Dickinson’s grave
In West Cemetery in downtown Amherst
And read me the inscription
Called Back
It reminded him of going to the cemetery
In Houston to visit his friend
Who was now in heaven Lettie said
He experienced the rapture
But Gabriel talked to the gravestone
And clutched a reindeer with a yellow bandana
I wonder if he knelt down and prayed
With the family when his friend died of leukemia
Cousins rolled in the aisle speaking in tongues
Jews stand up to the Almighty
I told him but mostly we just skipped
Out of services and headed to the playground
He was named after Janet’s mother Gertrude
And the angel Gabriel
Strong man of God
He had three epileptic seizures
Suddenly his brain caught fire
He spasmed to the ground and blanked out
Dostoevsky believed the convulsive fits
Bring you down bring you closer
The idiot the holy fool are nearer to God
He was a pallbearer at two funerals
One of my fathers died in Chicago
One in Phoenix I gave both eulogies
The music of death is solemn
He kept hugging me afterward and talked
Like a madman in the car to the graveyard
Like a spear hurtling through darkness
He was always in such a hurry
To find a target to stop
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