Seasonal Diptych
Solstice, End of Day
I’ve tried to forgive the vacant sky
its fleeting glint—
tried and failed
to accept another season
to accept another season
of garden-rot, silvered
bouquets of frost-stunned weeds.
bouquets of frost-stunned weeds.
Too stubborn, I think,
to name this fault.
to name this fault.
Too desperate: sick to death
of heavy boots and sleet-faded streets,
of heavy boots and sleet-faded streets,
how the sun falls back
through its trapdoor
through its trapdoor
and vanishes like
the men in my family
the men in my family
who’ve died or disappeared.
It’s winter and what more
It’s winter and what more
can be said of absence?
Afternoons, I find them
Afternoons, I find them
waiting in mirrors until
their faces give way
their faces give way
to mine: dumb trick
I fall for in half-hearted light
I fall for in half-hearted light
which dovetails
cloud-break and canopy,
cloud-break and canopy,
little black stream—
how shadow gives way
how shadow gives way
to shadow, each darkness
fleeing its source.
fleeing its source.
