When they die we change our minds about them. While they live we see the plenty hard they’re trying, to be a star, or nice, or wise, and so we do not quite believe them. When they die, suddenly they are what they claimed. Turns out, that’s what one of those looks like. The cold war over manner of manly or mission is over. Same person, same facts and acts, just now a quiet brain stem. We no longer begrudge his or her stupid luck. When they die we change our minds about them. I will try to believe while you yet breathe.
Copyright © 2014 by Jennifer Michael Hecht. Used with permission of the author. This poem appeared in Poem-A-Day on April 22, 2014. Browse the Poem-A-Day archive.