my cousin’s ill-timed passing

has taught me to cogitate,
even on happy moments,
on things solemn.

when,
over a decade later, we returned
to baping, our ancestral home, &
my over-the-moon father,
in the ancient rites of his fathers,
slaughtered the fattest of his bulls
& gathered our kinsmen to a feast
—a celebration our homecoming,
i couldn’t take my mind off
that star-crossed bull handpicked &
slain for indulgence’s sake

perhaps that is how my cousin died:
a god
straining hard to entertain his guests
handpicked & slain him…