R.I.P. Max Ritvo

blog-cdaleyoung:

AFTERNOON  by Max Ritvo

When I was about to die

my body lit up

like when I leave my house

without my wallet.

What am I missing? I ask

patting my chest

pocket.

And I am missing everything living

that won’t come with me

into this sunny afternoon

–my body lights up for life

like all the wishes being granted in a fountain

at the same instant–

all the coins burning the fountain dry–

and I give my breath

to a small bird-shaped pipe.

In the distance, behind several voices

haggling, I hear a sound like heads

clicking together. Like a game of pool

played with people by machines.

Rest well, Max (1990-2016)