By Gregory Orr
I won’t miss the way
Your bronze body
Froze
History into bitterness.
That spot you occupied
No longer radiates
Shadows
In every direction
Like a malign sundial
Designed to thwart
The slow
Progress of time.
Your absence: a form
Of hope,
a flat
And empty space
Where citizens stand
In a circle
And mark the hours
Of our town’s
Mortal
And peaceful clock.
