1.

     The color black invades our lives like some
     insect infestation. Idealization of whohewas
     is made pretty with floral arrangements
     and carefully chiseled crosses,
     which we hang upon our back doors
     in hopes that Someone might
     hear our prayers.

(No one here ever really liked him.)


                2.

     Inescapable, Death spun her yarn around me
     until I could not sing.
     Death, the inevitable mother,
     the imposter,
     the seamstress who  
     beat down all anticipation
     and wove dresses from my defeat—
     this time he was not there
     to offer cold hands or cigarettes.

(I remember his face as they closed that wooden box.)

        3.  

     But unlike the others,
     I would not be provoked
     by the uncertainties of July
     and you came on brightly,
     like fireworks ablaze.

(Your embers set flame to my forest.)


                               4.  

    And I rose up from the ashes,
    from the vestiges of evergreen,    
    and saplings sprung out where
    dark trees once haunted.
    In your eyes, my doubts grew soft
    like the inner flesh of daffodils:
    In your eyes, I was reborn.

(The eyes of our daughters are brown like mine.)


             5.

     Unpredictable, Life unraveled my heart
     in startling consonance.
     Life, the laughing child,
     the architect,
     the gardener in a floppy hat
     who plants our seed and hopes for rain.
     The melodies of tomorrow
     burn holes in the wreckage of today
     and unnoticed, anticipation creeps back in
     through the cracks of our foolish minds,
     painting dreams gently with joy.

(Our stars flicker and fall.)