by Kay Ryan
Most losses add something—
a new socket or silence,
a gap in a personal
archipelago of islands.
We have that difference
to visit—itself
a going-on of sorts.
But there are other losses
so far beyond report
that they leave holes
in holes only
like the ends of the
long and lonely lives
of castaways
thought dead but not.
In high school, Felix owned an air-brushed Queensrÿche jean jacket. About thirteen years later, he got the band to autograph it.
Felix may be done with heavy metal, but the music always seems to find him.
In the seventh grade, Felix made a replica of Steve Vai's guitar in Shop class. It remains in his room at his parents' house. And it remains awesome.
