Elvis

Outwardly

he lives within a shrine

Inwardly

in the jailhouse (rock) of his mind;

Elvis roaring on the record

Elvis plastered on the door

blue suede slippers

(shoes were too expensive)

placed neatly on the floor

Elvis on the bedsheets

Elvis on the lamp

sunglasses

(more like Elton’s)

worn so coolly 

yet crazily camp

Elvis on the bath mat

Elvis on the towel

Elvis in the twitch of his hips

and grimace of his scowl

Elvis has left the building

and Elvis sits here in a chair

a light glowing faintly

behind those eyes

but mostly no longer there.

Author's Note

For my Uncle, Elvis Jacquot.

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Very sad when this happens, I went through it with both parents.
I like your allusion to Elvis Presley---I grew up with him...my godparents bought me every single of his in the fifties...he was my favorite...and his decline was so sad....much like those loved ones we watch deteriorate in front of our eyes.
This poem is so powerful.
j.