Thursday, December 8, 2016

burke: POEM FOR ALAN HALE


 
                                               a drummer who died reading a newspaper at his local library
 

Time to turn the page, Al.
We’re all looking over your shoulder
To see what happens next.
Don’t suppose you’ll tell us –
Keeping things close was
Part of your style.
Time to pack up your kit, Al.
Some of the band’ve gone before you.
                                               This hall echoes all the other
Halls you played in. (Not forgetting
The dynamics of the Wirrina Drive-In!)


So, put the speakers back
Before you leave. Bev’s
Straightened her lipstick
And lit her last cigarette.
Good night, Al, from us all –
Drummers are always the last
To leave the hall.

 

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