blackbird online journal spring 2002 vol.1 no. 1



Autumn Sequester

For a time, even the trees were inconsolable.
They, who had carved a life from structure—

building on root. Strange
how years later they come into focus. Wind picks

at their offspring & carries away

with little fanfare, but a flutter. This small green
island is

the past. I remember
so little except the axis turning. I didn't know her,

but I kept her grief in my sleeve.

Talisman. Verdict. On a small green island
death gathers

with the upstart force of physics. Fervor
& further. Was it just to see the crying?

We could manage so little. Even to speak

would belie
the massive heart.  

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