Tuesday, April 05, 2005


It comes
At the oddest times

In the flush of victory
In the tide-rush

Of congratulations
That miss their mark

In a cloud-dust
Obscuring the moon

It is a step missed in the dark
It is the memory of a quick kiss

Unregarded by the kisser
It is the loss

Of a chew toy. In the end
There is so little

To hold. My daughter's girlfriend
Taught Michael

How to pop grapes, a skill
With which she often

Entertained toddlers, and
Now used

to entertain a Lama
In a bright kitchen

What I have not touched
Or have touched in the wrong way

Lingers in this empty
Shivering place

If you find me in tears
What wonder, in this world

Where so many things
Where so many things go by

Where so many things go by

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