Leia Darwish
Elegy
for Jake Adam York

Of course it was raining here. I thought of you

walking in the mud, the wells your feet

left behind, and the water that tried

to fill them. On cue, the streetlights went dark.

I wish that were a metaphor, but it’s my fault

for moving to a city that knows

how to make an elegy

of everything.

I can’t believe this is an elegy

for you. Since grief intoxicates enough,

I drank water until my stomach hurt

last night. I couldn’t stop. Today scripture

seemed to fall from the mouth of everyone

who spoke to me—the world took longer

to make sense. This some final lesson of yours:

I’ve got to figure everything out on my own now.

I’ve got to strip all my other elegies of their titles.

(Richmond, 2012)