An Act of Sabotage
Because I was young and heretical
(I wanted to be a radical) I spiked
trees to save them. This, I was told,
was the right thing to do: each tree
found with a spike ruins the forest
around it. It wasn’t true, of course.
Because I was young and heretical
(I wanted to be a radical) I spiked
trees to save them. This, I was told,
was the right thing to do: each tree
found with a spike ruins the forest
around it. It wasn’t true, of course.
In a dream
someone calling your name
from a far sea. A sign
from Allah. Says the book
of which, oriole, people.
You were my biggest mistake. In the yard,
our second son gave way to a shard
of glass and still, you did nothing. Kept mum.
Knife to air and he was taxing the sum
I drive Miss Carr to her kidney dialysis
in my taxi at 5 a.m.
She’s 43 and clutches
a ratty blanket.
At the clinic she lays back
on a gray vinyl bed-chair
Kiss me in Spanish.
Grab my waist and squeeze me
against you. Wait
a moment. Let silence
open space for language.
Let words
populate
what is
expanding
between us.
Before you died, you promised me
a book of poetry. It was the day
we planted the maple. We sprawled
in the dirt beside our newest sapling.