Evening Will Come: A Monthly Journal of Poetics (Issue 26, February 2013—Tribute to Jake Adam York)

Tribute to Jake Adam York

Joy Roulier Sawyer
Death’s Columbo

When we dare draw hope’s last refrain of breath,

and, breathless from love’s past, we glimpse our best,

bright longings now laid bare; and when thin death,

his face dissolved, grows pale when paired with rest

from sheer albino fear; when our grave’s guest,

arrested for grand theft, his shortened stay

the way death’s sting discerns he’s failed the test

of life, and will not underlord our day:

We’ll call it a night’s work. But until then, we play.