You could raise us.A crown of pipesmoke, a
scepter of cigars.Forty-year-old bowling trophies,blue and white
collectable plates,one for each winter.A narrative as
you take off yourshoes and dig smallcircles with your toes.
The garden's a mess,I'm easily distracted but
I am not about to break. Iam not aboutto be anything I'm not.
My name isa word that meansdeer or beginning,
an expressionwhich meansmy grandfathers' experience,as I feel
lavish next to themlike everything I amisprogress, and they are
solid, directing me. Thenwe, in thewholeness of theyard, my
grandparents, my wife, theroses which peelopen, unruined,undetailed, the
detailsunfolding andyou say it'sfine don'tfix it. |
