Monday, November 01, 2010


Now she inhabits the same space
as the maple that died of root rot
in the year the rain refused to end.

Its leaves were huge, phantasmagorical
and their absence throws sunlight
across the yard in big patches

in which she curls up to sleep. The sound
of the breeze through those immense
palmate greens is the wheeze

of her breath in the last days. We felled
the dead trunk in sections for safety
and they hit the sodden ground

with a soft thump like the sound of her
curling against our bedroom door
ignoring the soft couch every night

even when winter froze aging joints.
Now she inhabits the same nameless space
as the dead felled tree and lost leaves.

Collection available! Knocking from Inside


Uma said...

This is a beautiful poem with such intense images.

Jingle said...

well done.

Jingle said...

Jingle Poetry Monday Potluck is open Now,

Welcome Linking in any poem, join the fun today!
an old poem would work.
Happy Belated Halloween, Happy Tuesday!