Wednesday, December 2, 2009


In Dark,
Till Dawn wraps her
Slender arms around the
Bright lines and clots
Of shadow that
Blocks the moon that
We seek and hold
On starry nights,
When we fall down.
All fall down .
And round and round
And up and down…
Rename ourselves
After all those words.
This dizzying dance of arms
And legs and parts
With the mourning,
Comes the sun.
In Dark,
Rely on Dawn.

Things Shouldn't Be So Hard --Kay Ryan

A life should leave
deep tracks:
ruts where she
went out and back
to get the mail
or move the hose
around the yard;
where she used to
stand before the sink,
a worn-out place;
beneath her hand
the china knobs
rubbed down to
white pastilles;
the switch she
used to feel for
in the dark
almost erased.
Her things should
keep her marks.
The passage
of a life should show;
it should abrade.
And when life stops,
a certain space—
however small—
should be left scarred
by the grand and
damaging parade.
Things shouldn't
be so hard.