He arrived from New York,
by cross-country cortege of men in dark suits.
They shouldered his casket, heaped with calla lilies,
from the Actor's Chapel to the hearse, to the train car,
to the Court of the Apostles. And all along the tracks, people watching him pass.

Would you come to me in my resting,
like the Lady in Black, with a single stem?
What a beautiful veil, what a lot of great weeping.
She passed and they found her house filled with him, still.

When I leave you, love, will you rain it
                        rose petals?