Triolet for Bernard
by Philip Dacey


My uncle Bernard froze off all his toes
sleeping under a bridge in wintry Detroit.
His warmth and wit were always my good news.
Still, Uncle Bernard froze off all his toes.
“Homeless” wasn’t then the word people would use;
Grandpa called him a bum, said, “Get out of my sight.”
My uncle Bernard froze off all his toes
sleeping under a bridge in wintry Detroit.






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