Contending in memoried turns under its date the tape winds a while longer to mull death over. The hearts of his children have cooled since then, ten years like ten young trees grown to shade. Once teen-aged boys on the hilled grass, young athletes out of shape to lift the coffin of one who dealt…
Hot, sticky night, the moving truck is at the door. Only a few weeks since your death. Your things arrive, the contents of your life spill over mine, disrupting my careful rooms. The moving men stumble up the stairs. I hear myself call, “Put the desk in the bedroom, gentlemen, please.” Already your elaborate courtesies…
Hope in Kingston drives a Volvo that rattles. We’ve missed our turn to the hotel: the soothing quiet flourishing palms, veranda columns, fresh paint and the bulldog asleep under the table while his Aussie master nurses the last night’s drink. No yams or jerky pork except on Wednesday by the pool, white jackets and a…
To be on Zurichberg (the price of gold climbing faster than the #5 tram) to be on Zurichberg where they buried Joyce between the Dolder and the zoo in earshot of a dozen tourist languages and the lions’ roar, to be at Joyce’s grave under a pewter sky returns me to the epiphytes at Kew…
For my father In your orange flight suit, you approached the Renault we knew might stall after a hard winter freeze. With your pilot’s hand, you turned the engine. When it caught, I ran down the walkway you had shoveled. Cinderella lunch-box under my arm, I climbed in the frozen capsule, and waited for you…
I lived among a people who said, pig, for luck. They might have said stork or flounder for these beings were familiar to them, as were rat and donkey. But they said, pig. No doubt from ingrained habit. Real pig, fella. Some pig you had, my friend. What pig. Good pig! Hey, have a piggy…
God said He would destroy Earth’s violent flesh, but spare me. Was there gratitude enough for such a burden? My family blessed Him. They built the ark according to His dimensions, cubit by square cubit. He was specific, demanding gopher wood, three stories pitched within, one window, and two of every creature. Opening a door…
Most ancient Metaphysics, (poor Metaphysics!) All decked up in imitation jewelry. We went for a stroll, arm in arm, smooching in public Despite the difference in our age. It was still the 19th century, she whispered. We were in a knife-fighting neighborhood Among some rundown relics of the Industrial Revolution. Just a little further, she…
Simon’s house was elegant, with spacious apartments. I like to think lilacs fell from my hair. Simon himself was dignified, secure. It was a supper of powerful men; I crouched under the table, at the feet of the man I loved, applying ointment to His feet, out of the usual desire. Tonight the table is…
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