Dirge for Unwin
Dirge for Unwin
Uncle Unwin
lived unwed,
died unmourned,
our tears unshed,
his chin unshaved,
his soul unsaved,
his feet unwashed,
his cat unfed,
uncouth, unkempt,
no cuff unfrayed,
his floor unswept,
his bed unmade,
ungenerous,
unkind to us,
the undertaker’s
bill unpaid
until
his will,
found undercover,
left untold wealth
to an unknown lover.
It’s so unfair.
We were unaware:
even nobodies count
on one another.
Copyright: from The All-Nite Cafe (Faber, 1993), © Philip Gross 1993, used by permission of the author.
About Dirge for Unwin
This is a completely negative sort of poem. Or is it.