Death Of An Author Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

The Death of an Author

John Updike is dead, can’t say I know much about him
I may have read one or two of his books but he didn’t
leave a lasting impression as Hemingway did.

One of my neighbours has died too, I saw him every
day walking past my house with his old dog and a basket
in his left arm, with wine and a bit to eat.

He was going to his little field, doing some weeding but
mostly just drinking looking at the way birds flew, patting
his dog’s head and snoring gently under of a tree.

There was something about his eyes, like some inner
suffering had made him look holy, say, as an idealized
picture of Jesus on the cross.

I’m going to his funeral tomorrow morning, at 67 he was
bit young for death I thought, a new face will come and
take his place; but who is going to look after his old dog?