Sonnet for Brett Foster

I was reading Jeffrey Goldberg’s new piece

In The Atlantic — it was the one about

President Obama’s decision not

To be persuaded by a commonplace

That our credibility hinges on the use

Of swift and massive lethal force despite

Pressure even from his own Cabinet

Appalled that Assad shelled Ghouta with sarin gas — 

When I thought of your poem on the way

Of denial, “Via Negativa,” whose lines

Celebrated their (your rhyme) reticence.

Why am I even talking this way to you?

I watched you being buried, yet in the end

I wonder if I had ever been your friend.