Leavings

Departures and residue--

or, I might have said,
the stuff of life.

But with no one to arrive,
who can depart?
And with nothing to be formed,
what can be left over?

Perhaps it is not so bad
after all.

for Zoe

The sky has cracked and I cannot mend it.

I would wrap myself around this wound,
swallow the fracture whole,

but I can only hold you

while silent snow falls
like tiny white blossoms.

Singularity

for Susan

I was seventeen
and held the universe in a nexus of suns,
that time my hand rested at the base of your spine.

Lately my wife

The line of demarcation descends,
an empty taxonomy,
for it cannot cut away yesterdays.

I discover that to extinguish
an ocean of fire,
one need only stop breathing.

Now, my bones are cast like runes
into days unknown.

But light is waning
and there are many boxes yet.