The yahrzeit of Daphne Merkin's father

I hope that Ms. Merkin's father rests in peace, and that her rich, detailed memories of him, versified in this week's Forward, are for a blessing.

Poetically speaking, however, sodden sentimentality does not make up for a lack of novelty. "The dead are so gone"! At the risk of violating de mortuis nihil nisi bonum, or (in Jewish) akharey mos kedoshim emor, perhaps we can Merkinize other poems:

April is so the cruellest month.
I am so the emperor of ice cream.
And I, so their sexton slave!

Or perhaps:

So holy, so holy, so holy is the Lord of Hosts,
The whole earth is so filled with His glory.

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