This pain
shuts the door
and sings a bad song.
It’s like a dog’s howling
a human’s growling when nothing
else will matter. Matter makes
the muscle, which seizes up. What
did I do that couldn’t have been
undone? A ripe sunset cannot be
eaten. And a word misspoken spins
its own orb. What can I swear to that
shouldn’t be sworn? I wish for the shadows
to soften. I hope for the meadow of my muscle-
bound youth to roll toward me with frolicking
horses. I hope on the tooth of a mare. I’ll leave
the first leaf of fall to turn over. Rich remembrance,
I caught a whiff of you. Down under my subtle self,
I am wishing on you. I imagine the snap of
the wishbone, but that was long ago.
