The organ player who resided in the corner of the cathedral died from unrequited love,
once, in 1929,
just before the Crash,
he had his back to the love of his life
and she took the hand of another
and he did nothing about this
did nothing to tell her that he wanted her back
that he would think of her with great pain each Sunday and for all the Sundays of his life
She looked at him once,
on a rainy Tuesday,
when she sat in the back of the chapel, alone, drying off from the rain
and he never knew she was there,
never knew she saw him for who he wanted to be
as he tuned his organ and watched the window to see if lightning would strike twice
And he asked for his epitaph to say only one word
hers
and when they put him in the ground he rotted from ambiguity
from loathing the unfamiliar
and she never came to see him
not because she wouldn't have
but because he saw right through her
and off into the distance
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