We buried you

the way you wanted

with all the pomp

and reverence

a gypsy queen should have

We painted the wagons

and braided ribbons

in the horses' manes

We lit the campfire

till it shined its way

toward heaven

God was expecting you

an aged old sylvie child

Transplanted from Latvia

to Chicago

by way of Serbia

We filled the open carts

with gardenias

and magnolia blooms

and wreaths of


Freshly cut

full of scent

and garlands for your hair

We took your gold

and melted it

to one big shapeless mass

and cast it whole so it could trace

the rivers of your life

We played the tunes

and danced to songs

of gypsies long since past

We made the festival

you wanted

and sang and danced the night away

and kissed the kiss of death-rebirth

the violins mourned for you

And I

gypsy child


that you were gone

~ (C) ~
Private Collections
Half Gypsy/Half Butterfly

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