March 28, 2011
I'm sorry, we thought you were gone
and pain-blind stole from your house
the coffee cup you measure sugar with
a lozenge tin of paper clips
your trowel, a cut handful
of thread left beside the silent
singer, and two more coffee cups
with which you rose full
and thanked the sun each day.
A stone from your garden,
a line from beside each eye.
We thought you were gone and
tried to take you away in things that
you swarmed from suddenly free
as a kicked hive of bees, as vastly
alive as you ever will be.
Posted by delire at March 28, 2011 12:06 PM