Tuesday, June 30, 2009
house on the field
lifts to another life, that which is lost
in this. He is gone and no matterwhat, the ground remains heaped
with the earth that turnsin its own house, the clock
on the wall, the downward swingthe voice that quivers and
falls silent as my wife,who rises from the bed to stand in
the doorway of the presentcertain as future, delicate as prayer.