There’ll Be New Ways to End You’ll Never Know

Norbert and Sally are dead.
They were alive the last time
You were in the neighborhood,

One vigorous, one fading,
One reader and one poet.
They’re being celebrated

With belated services,
Belated thanks to the plague
That swept through here after them

Who didn’t live long enough
To die from the latest thing
That could have killed them or those

Friends who risked gathering close
To breathe commemoration.