The Lord Sits with Me out in Back
for Jack Gilbert

Brett Elizabeth Jenkins

The Lord sits with me out in back and watches me

drink Miller High Life. I think about questions I will

not ask him and he shakes his head gently and smiles

a little. We watch birds flying low like leaves

lifting out of the fields. The cat lounges idly beside us,

toothing out the gravel from her paws. The Lord

watches her small movements for awhile. He asks me

to read him the Jack Gilbert poem again, and waits

as I flip to the dog-eared page; patient as I wait for

the stable breath it will take to actually finish it this time.