The Obituary I Read

The Obituary I Read

survived by three and one dog, age sixty-two
beloved husband, father, brother, friend
a lifelong fan of fishing and cold weather
passed peacefully, and that was how it ends

they listed all the towns he had ever lived in
they said he served with pride in sixty-nine
they squeezed a man into eleven lines of print
and left out everything that mattered at the time

the obituary i read was not the man i knew
it was a polished stone above the residue
it smoothed the edges off and left the center bare
it said everything except the things that mattered there

they did not mention how he laughed too loudly
or how he said the wrong thing half the time
they did not write about the years he struggled
or how he finally steadied on the line

they said he was devoted, i will take it
they said he will be missed, no argument
but what about the actual living person
who bent and burned before the fire went

we reduce them at the end to their best attributes
we give the dead a coat of cleaner paint
and everyone who ever loved them furiously
now writes them up as a patient, gentle saint

i would rather have the truth in twelve rough paragraphs
the disagreements, failings, and regrets
i would rather have the real man in his full dimensions
than a marble likeness that nobody forgets

so when i go, do not smooth me for the paper
do not call me something softer than i was
just write the year i started and the year i stopped
and let the whole messy middle be the cause