to the altar than any of the family.
Between the homily and the eulogy,
she floated back in
and placed
a package of powdered donuts
on the pedestal
next to the urn
of my father’s ashes.
Next to the man
who loved his pastries.
Beside the man
who always said I’ll make it up to you … Near the man who never held his head too high.
Beside the man
whose mother
widowed, poor,
then finally drunk,
gave food to those with even less,
to me,
pennies off her dresser.
THE SCATTERING OF ASHES
For A
I am every cool breeze
and bite on the lake
when the fish follow
and the water reads your mind.
I am the tree of resolution
against a gray November sky.
I am the heart of the fleeting deer.
I follow the rolling hills at dusk
to the little fork in the road
where I’ll find you in your dreams.
AFRAID TO SLEEP AND THEN AFRAID TO WAKE
Alone after the death of two fathers
That you might not open the morning first
or tighten the lid to the day.
Accustomed to you and feeling
in-comprehensible, though I know
if you were here, you would understand.
Innocent sounds enter the house and become
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