“and I give my breath/ to a small bird-shaped pipe.” Afternoon Max Ritvo – When I was about to die my body lit up like when I leave my house without my wallet. – What am I missing? I ask patting my chest pocket. – and I am missing everything living that won’t come with me into this sunny afternoon – Read rest of poem, plus several others, at The Boston Review. – Max Ritvo, Poet Who Chronicled His Cancer Fight, Dies at 25 – JOHN SCHWARTZ – New York Times – AUG. 26, 2016 Share this:TwitterFacebookGoogleLike this:Like Loading... Related Leave a Reply Cancel reply Enter your comment here... Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Email (required) (Address never made public) Name (required) Website You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out / Change ) You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out / Change ) You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out / Change ) You are commenting using your Google+ account. ( Log Out / Change ) Cancel Connecting to %s Notify me of new comments via email.