After David Berman
Your acerbic wit,
Gift for tragic
Wordplay,
And lazy croon
Belied a broken heart,
One you shaped
To fit the frame
Of the country song,
Until eventually
It all became too much,
Your words whittled down
To razor sharp
Turns of phrase,
Your heart exposed
Wounds and all,
Suicide notes
In miniature,
And by the time
People took notice
You were gone
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Paul Ilechko
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