A Trophy

The boy was presented
For Christmas a paper
His father’s picture
A long black box
And then a shiny heart
Background of peculiar royal hue

Hangs from a trophy

Hands and feet
Later appeared pictured in odd places
His mind hangs on a trophy
Little league champion
Soon a rifle will be
In those hands where the bat is

Beautiful Exception

Be the exception to my rule
Make me feel like less a fool
See I’ve been going to all this school
And learning
The wrong things

I see you span your wings
I hear the way you sing
You make me forget everything
Beautiful exception
To the rule

With every object falling down
Like the moon, you stay up proud
Breathing with no oxygen around
Beautiful exception
To the rule

And when the stars have all worn out
You will shine there without doubt
The light the world can’t do without
Beautiful exception
To the rule

For Ken

So often I wonder how
The Judge arrives at these decisions
He is more a surgeon:
Incision in the bloodline
Took you away too soon
You so blessed with grace
You so bound for glory
You so missed by the world
Because you gave so much too it
You are dancing on the clouds
Painted happy like the man in the moon
Laughing at these questions
Singing a new song
Meeting new judges and new angels
Or resting, now, perhaps