March 9th, 2011


Again, we go on longer
as early daffodils do today
next to, well - next to nothing
because the house is gone
and the wall has crumbled
into an indistinct pile of rock

Every spring where the
front steps once were
this yellow reminds me
of the unending life here
when I held you at night
and ate soup with bread

In this warm kitchen
behind wavy glass
under two douglas firs
where the tiger lilies
still hug the corner near
a scatter of gray coal

Here, a few rotting planks
that once was the bin
which fed our furnace
quietly before electricity
and gave us life as it
grew warm in our chest