—Why did I stay beside after he had gone?
Because that was his body! Where the spirit hung out.
How I knew him. Kindness in his hands.
Now I hardly want anything to do with it—
the book, that is, I had to write alone.
“There’s a part of the moon that’s the best part,”
some random gov’t dude says on TV.
Didn’t know that. Add it to the list.
Hadn’t thought to look for my father there.
Or is he the gladioli I’ve been waiting for:
green stalk, green flowers. You don’t see that every day.
Someone plays guitar in the woods. Don’t let me down.
I get it; sad but not scary.
I want to move farther north. Pioneer, in a way.
When it first happened, I went to pieces; my face did.
Now I suppose I look fine.