In A Week Or Two, My Love, The Maple Will Be Empty.

In a week or two, all this vanishing
will have been accomplished. We'll monitor the cardinal
floating over the stiff field. Already our eyes
narrow toward what looks like knowledge
in the form of acceptance. Vigilance is what you see
in the cornfield now, rows and rows of the cut down
stalks, their remainders rising
a few orderly inches above the dirt. If we were evangels,
if we had more hope for the dead, if our stories
could be confirmed, the cardinal's flight might verify
our love. The flaw we have found in emptiness
is the flaw we have found in certainty. Come now,
we shall fill the rooms with ourselves.

Copyright © 2005 David Swerdlow All rights reserved
from West Branch
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission