Vacation, March 2002

the time was taken
for the sake of taking

and lost
to your last breathe

your men
on the pew behind me

gray rain
rich greens

the days
too heavy.

this day bright

Comes the morning
comes the day
into eve
fades the flicker

nary a god forgot
this day bright
are thanks delivered
and ills for naught.

over yonder

On the hill
on the rise
trotting soft
one may surmise
away
to let the world sit
turn not a wit
and ponder
this day
for Masque’
the Great Turtle
is over yonder.

nail after nail

Each move
nail after nail
small collage
of me at 18 months; eighteen
months with Daddy; 17;
22; 22 and Daddy my wedding; Daddy
at seventeen before he ever grew a beard;
37 with the mortarboard
in a toast; 37 with friends wine food; three
of grade school; early discs 3 of small
hands immortal in clay; siblings young
that year I will always recall you;

Each move
nail after nail
small collage of years
after too many years
of blank walls.