Malady the Sock Monkey

In his prime he was a splendid thing
Played cymbals with a glancing blow
Danced, sang
In celebrated bands
Never boastful, rarely proud
A noble creature of renown

His illness came a great surprise
To Malady and those he loved
Cancer
Of the bones and mouth
Prognosis poor to middling

Treatment (there was little to be had)
Came to an end
We sat around the bed
Told fond anecdotes
Listened to the delicate breath
Diminishing

Lucy said
Let’s take him to the lake
And set him sail
On grammies old tea tray

We wrapped him in a muslin band
Took turns to kiss his curious face
Then laid him on a pyre of twigs
And set him sail from the water’s edge

We heard him sigh (a final breath?)
That echoed like a cymbal struck
The mud around the lake was cold
The fire upon the tray took hold

Lucy said
It’s for the best
Who wants to be unravelled full of life
We said a prayer to monkey god
And left the lake to the fall of night