At Her Grave
We’re skimming rocks across
The water’s top…we’re making
Moats of stones
We want to befuddle and defeat
The crabgrass
And keep every word in sight

At times what I despise
What feels at the time to be the most –
That they turn out the lights
Lock the gates and shoo us out
With bullhorns, only because
It is now seven p.m.

At times I am convinced
Or nearly so that all I want
Is to spend all night
In proximity to your bones, to
Guard a candle through that night,
To still be there when all apparitions

Have blended like sky
Into morning, given wing
To the robins and songs to
The chimes,
And I have learned beyond any doubt
That I need not be a slave to mere time.

We’re sloshing in high tide
Luscious wet toes and glitters
As numerous as grains.
Tar and jellyfish cannot
Even annoy us – At this time
Your bones could almost carry me,

You are so certainly alive.
Spirit
Love
Hope
Wonder
And I may hide behind a tree

Next time, park the car
On a nearby street,
Who knows what the evening
Of bereavement may lead to?
You stay on my mind
You always stay.



- posted by barbara @ 5/30/2004 01:41:00 PM