On the Death of My Friend's Daughter
Allan Garry

On the Death of My Friend's Daughter

I, who believe in so little,
see her rising
slender as an arrow,
arms close to her sides,
her hair wet,
smelling of smoke and the sea,
the spiraling tail
of a white gown
five times her length
trailing below her feet
as she ascends.
While girls her age
are busy bearing children,
she is being borne
past granite angels, rosebuds, thorns,
through arias and incense,
toward the origin of fire,
to the feet of a man
who stands in elegant, white brocade,
a man you hope
will do his best to speak
on her behalf to God.

Allan Garry

has contributed to The Connecticut River Review, Connecticut Review, Avocet, Red Fox Review, Theater Topics, The Penny Paper, Helix, Main Street Rag, and The Cape Rock. He hasĀ given readingsĀ at universities and colleges in both Connecticut and Massachusetts and continues to read periodically at a number of other venues. He resides in Hamden, Connecticut, with his thoughts and his cat.