clover

one afternoon
soon after they met - that summer
on the beach - he eased the top of her
bathing suit aside to rub tanning oil
on her shoulders and found a small, leaf shaped
birthmark he considered very lucky.

shortened to ‘clo’ it became her love name;
kissing it, part of his acknowledgment,
the shoulder he always reached for.

the afternoon she died
he sat beside her in a great pool of loss
until the nurses gently guided his elbows
away for a cup of tea.
by the time he had finished she was already
in the calm, professional hands of others.

and although he willed it so, he never managed
to convince her to roll over
so he could kiss it one more time.


Oct. 9/02

Two Cats

are buried in my yard.
Both by me, alone -
although I’m sure
the neighbours watched -
wondered
that in this urban yard
we bury our own dead.
The first, ‘Pud’,
died either of, or by, misadventure.
Half deaf but determined to defend
the yard she ventured into the street
and was gone.

We stood in the driveway
and took comfort in each other.
The next day I was shaken
awake by a bright white blaze
on her heel
which I’d never noticed before
and which has stayed
with me over fifteen years.

The second, ‘Percy’ (the pest),
died shortly after we both agreed -
and said so over the phone -
that there was no more hope.
His last weeks were quiet.
I first noticed
that he was no longer jumping
to the top of the fridge to consider my glasses.
In the end he sat quietly on the floor,
rising from his haunches to accept a caress
then settling back down, not
showing the pain.
The next day I collected him
in a box - smaller and heavier
than I expected.
I selected a spot that got a little sun and shade
and which I thought
would not be soon needed
for a flower bed -
or be walked on too much;
and dug until I thought his paw
would not appear
in the spring.
I lay him sleeping and with small
slow shovel loads covered him -
wondering
which memory would remain.
In the end it was his left ear, listening
to my slow heartbeat
and the sound of the shovel.
Some ancestral memory
sent me to find a small piece of cloth
to cover him -
so the earth would not too quickly
fill that space between his bones.


Oct. 4/02

transplant (with hope)

no visible stains
mark a mother’s loss in - these sheets
she could no longer keep -
just as she had given him up.
tonight I hope she would be pleased to know
they are lining a double sleeping bag,
in a hostel in Boston.


Sept. 16/02

in the hierarchy of questions

finding a precise location
for my curiosity
about your preference in sheets
and how you arrange your legs
is not yet a simple matter.


Sept. 16/02

three ounces

yesterday i got out the kitchen scale
to determine the difference between
a casual touch and a question.

anything less than three ounces
delivered by thumb or fingertips
is innocent.



Aug. 26/02

take this page

hold it horizontal at eye level.

written on good paper,
a poem rises above the surrounding topography.

you can easily see where it detaches itself
from the surrounding stream of idea and image,
striking out on its own.


Mar. 11/02

Wednesday, dinner.

Just before Dinner
he found a black silk scarf and four silk cords
laid out on the bed.

During dinner
his curiosity found him
searching through the salad and among the vegetables
for a clue.

Were they intended for her? Or him?


June 10/02