The LYRICAL got this letter from poet  Jennifer Freed: “I haven’t lived in Somerville for years (if that matters) – I live now with my family just outside of Worcester. But I wrote the following after reading your July 19 issue. I kept wondering why a person might end up spending the time and money to cremate bodies, and then not return the remains to the families. I came up with the following invention. (The voice, by the way, comes from a man I met in Cambridge years ago, when we both volunteered at a shelter).”

**Dozens of cremated remains were found by investigators at U-Haul Moving & Storage in Somerville on Wednesday of last week, followed by 12 more remains discovered in a Public Storage Unit in Weymouth on Thursday….Authorities said that foul play in the deaths of the deceased are not suspected at this time. The Somerville Times, July 19, 2014.

*

In the U-Haul Moving and Storage Unit

This here, this is Jimmy.
He was pitcher on our high school team, and
his voice – he had a singing voice like
melted butter, like a summer
peach when you’re sitting hot and hungry
on a city sidewalk.

And this, this is Stan, may he rest
in peace. He had dreams you wouldn’t want
to hear him tell – bombs
and body parts – so dark
he couldn’t sleep
unless he drank, so he
drank.

Over here is Lester, but he went by
Les. He’d give half of anything he had
away, even to a stray. Wore panties and a bra
when he could find any to fit. We guessed
that’s why his lady went
and kicked him out, but we never let him think
we even knew.

And here’s Roberto, the one we called the Prof. He
could recite for you whole pages of important
local guys, like Longfellow
and Thoreau, carried them all
inside his head. He could’ve done something big
in life, but he hung with us instead.

And here – but that’s enough, I see
you want to leave. So many other
things to do. We could stay
for hours, if I named everyone
that’s here. But they deserve
some memory of their names. And they have no one
else to hold on to
their ashes.
I can’t give them each a mantelpiece
and a pretty urn, but
I know them, from my own days
on the streets, and I am doing
what I can.

—  Jennifer Freed
*

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