|Apr/May 2004 • Poetry|
The announcement's on
the blackboard: pork
with a side of eggs. Today's
Susie Loves Breakfast Special.
I go back
to the prologue, the woman
stepping into the water
where by the end
Can I bring you coffee? Yes, coffee.
It doesn't seem today will turn
into anything. Tonight it'll take
a few minutes
to remember how old I am,
what exactly Virginia said to Leonard
how, before sleep,
she might have loved him—sadly,
He must have felt her
good-bye the last night in their bed.
You take care, and we'll see you next time.
I know by now the sky today will keep
what it has to itself.
I'll drive to Coos Bay
or Yachats. In my mind
I'll find where she was when she started down
toward each wave's push
I'll know then
I love it here in the wind's cold rush.
All of it breaking against me.