a bit overdue

at the end of july, s informed me that a fellow mfa grad had passed away. i have thought for a long time what to write and still am a bit shocked and wordless. not because we were close. we weren't. but we were classmates. and he was very young. and death is always a weird beast. always.

kevin was the kind of guy who commanded attention. he assumed everyone would want to hear what he had to say. whether he was reading his own poem or critiquing someone else's, his voice was a bit boomy. probably even self-righteous.

(now, maybe you think i'm being mean but in fact i am not. only honest. and i know kevin would settle for nothing less.)

when critiquing he would often say something like, "i don't like this intro but that's just kevin franklin." he almost always referred to himself in the third person. and it almost always caused muffled laughter in those echoey classrooms. his poems were about his many escapades. ladies he'd conquered. island life he'd lived. there is something sad yet satisfying in knowing we'll never know who kevin really was. which of his poems embodied the real him. it's most likely true that they all did, to an extent. he was the only black person in our class and i think the only black person in our entire program (?) but please don't fault me if i'm mistaken. there is nothing i can say that wouldn't understate his pride in his ethnicity & heritage.

i have not seen or talked to kevin since we graduated. so it was most shocking to hear of his passing. he lived his entire life with sickle cell anemia. in and out of hospitals, etc. and i know he was a religious man. so, for some reason, i feel that he is at peace. with a god he had worshipped so wholly.

good night, kevin. workshop would have never been the same without you. thank you for your voice. your poetic honesty. and thank you for giving me a ride across campus that one day. it was hot and i was exhausted and going to be late. and you were very kind to me.