Another Dead Man poem.

Here is the prompt: Big Tent Poetry

Here is my first effort: The Dead Woman and Sex

1. The Dead Man and Memory 

The dead man isn’t dead yet, he is remembering. 
He has made promises he has not kept. 
He has made vows he has broken. 
He is sure of this, but what promises, what vows?   

The dead man forgets where he is.  
This is a foreign place.  
He does not speak this language.  
Where has he come to?    

The dead man mobilizes his antagonisms.  
The dead man sends out his soldiers.  
The dead man is well-defended.  
The dead man believes in an organized offense.  

The dead man retreats behind the lines.  
He is putting on his armor.  
He is lifting up his shield.  
He is anchoring his helmet.   

He is thinking about memory.  
Its unreliability, its elusiveness, its dangers.    

2. More About the Dead Man and Memory   

Perhaps the dead man actually is dead.  
The dead man cannot see the stars.  
The dead man remembers the moon.  
Its variability, its moods, how it measures out time.    

How it moves from abundance to scarcity.  
And back again, from sliver to full light.  
Long Night Moon, Wolf Moon, Cold Moon.  
The dead man remembers shadows.    

Memory is a constellation. 
What invisible force holds it together?  
The dead man believes in rigor. 
Gravitas, gravity, grave, is he dead yet?   

The dead man feels that force pressing against him.  
The weight of his terrible errors.  
The dead man remembers the sky.  
How the moon falls into shadow.    

How it turns red and sullen.  
How it both vanishes and flares.