THE CORONER'S FINDING WAS OF DEATH BY ACCIDENT.(Brief Article)(Poem)

 
   You only come back after twenty-five years, 
   because someone fetched your name. 
   Brittle and earnest as sticks, 
   the angularity and tetchy eccentricity 
   mute protest at a selfhood so easily disregarded. 
 
   Your glasses appear first--metal frames 
   governing a face which knows 
   it is not beautiful, and a body which knows 
   it is not attractive and a self which knows 
   it must live with this--and with its history, 
   which will straiten it, further and further 
   away from the flesh of acceptance, 
   and that no one else will know 
   or care to know-- 
 
   Your intensity an asceticism, a defence 
   against hurt, you were included in so much 
   as not to make exclusion obvious. 
   Always the air of old people hung from you, 
   like begging paupers trailing their ...