Fifth of June

I was at the Magic Kingdom, alone,

                        Fittingly lone,
            Just stepping off the Carousel of Progress,
            Still, “These are the Times”-ing
            When the phone, belt-clipped, rang
            With atonal, casual urgency.
Overwhelmed by the sun, I sought shadow-
                        Obscured, heated
            Preparation for the voice on the other end.
            Sweat dripped into my eyes; squinting
            As I answered, “Hello,”
            Day-Star-blinded and optimistic.
“Have you heard?”  “No. What?” “Sorry.”
                        “God, what is it?”
            “His Sun set, finally.” I knew instantly
            That, even in the intersection of make-
            Believe and greatness, of ranches
            And studio lots, he shoneheadlinedstill.
Loving Nancy and God and America,
                        And even me,
            Tackling malaise with vision, with words,
            With myth, from behind the golden
            Curtain, before the Iron Curtain
            He took his place beyond the sunrise.
To the sunset on our Carousel of
                        Victor’s Progress,
            Fighting on, eclipsed and echoing resolve
            Like a trumpet against Jericho,
            With humble fallibility, page-turning:
            A new scene, a new story: an enduring hope.                                  

Comments are Closed