February always finds you folding   Local papers open to the faces   Passed away to wonder what they're holding    In those hands we're never shown the places   Formal photographs refuse to mention   His tiny feet, that birthmark on her knee   The tyranny of framing our attention   With all the eyes they're eyes no longer see      And darkness comes too early you won't find   The many things you owe these latest dead    A borrowed book, that check you didn't sign   The tools to be believed with be beloved   Give what you can to keep to comfort this   Plain fear you can't extinguish or dismiss