Wednesday, June 20, 2018

Variations on a Bumper Sticker

                                                          My other horse is a ghost.

I've seen these clouds before,
Although they're newly formed,
And though the palms are more
Than a million years old,
It's like they're saying now
Their first words.
The cars have headlights on
As if they're in a funeral
But there's nothing dead enough
For us to see,
Just things that are escaping
From the prison of what is:
The wait for rain
Where there won't be any coming,
The memory of seeds
Long since blown away,
And the willingness to stand
Next to all this pain
As if the painter of grays
Could understand her paintings,
Why they were carried away.