Leave the light on for me

We talk about our death way before it's necessary.

Once when we are newly wed, he whispers

 I want to go first--I must never live without you. 

I feel shame; I do not want to go first. 

Do not want to go at all, not ever. 

So I take his hand in mine and joke:

Ok but leave the light on for me!

Even a jest makes me shiver. 

I am overcome by this man but not 

because he cannot live without me.

I am overcome because he can bear his death. 

Later when he is sick and looking down 

into the grave, he only cries once and it is brief. 

After that he is ready. 

He is calm, waiting to be taken. 

Waiting as if for an airport limo.

Lightening

For a long time, I do not open 

his closet door. 

But today is different, today 

I do. 

Today as if it were just a closet, 

I turn the knob 

as if it were a small dark room 

for storage

not a passageway. 

Today I open it prepared 

to face his lumber shirt, 

his jeans, his brown leather boots.

Today I am not prepared to see him 

in a flash of light

that makes his hair glow

like a halo. 

How tall he seems, how straight,  

how unbent 

just like before, 

but silent, so silent

as never before, 

how he seems to float

on a sky above a sky. 

Stupor

Sometimes I need proof that he once was 

-- can't trust my mind, it's made up things before. 

sometimes I close my eyes just to to see him, 

just to peak at him again

dozing in the chair 

on the inside of my lids, just to see 

him folding clothes,

just to see him stirring 

meatball soup--he looks good in his bones--

just to see him, sometimes, just to see him 

flossing while we watch the evening news, 

just to see him like that again.

And then the whole world stops, 

the whole world shatters into bits of glass 

right there behind my eyes, 

the whole world bursts 

and I am melting at the knees

inside a hale of this confetti.

. 

Ghosts

I have never seen a ghost

nor known anyone who's seen a ghost. 

I wish to see a ghost to prove there’s more 

to life than what we measure. 

What I have seen is the dead. 

I have seen a taut face dusted with flour 

and dense as stone.

But if I could see a ghost, I would overcome my dread

and speak, not knowing what to expect from a ghost. 

I would ask about God of course and karma, 

about all this suffering.

I would ask about feelings,

I would ask, are there feelings Man hasn't felt?  

But first, first I would ask about him. 

Atlas

Where in the world might I go now 

that I can go anywhere ? 

Drop a coin on the atlas and tell me 

where it lands: there I could go.

I can go anywhere now. 

But my own nature is here  

where the sky shivers in fog 

and the sun glows silver 

and the effect is mystic.

I could go anywhere now 

but I will stay by the bay, by this ocean, 

by these mountains--by all this

unfair share of beauty.

I could go anywhere but 

here lights blink from cities,

leap from the ocean foam, 

from the kindred faces. 

I could go anywhere but some nights 

I can't sleep missing him, 

missing all the lost days that drip 

from memory, so many they could 

form a deep lake.

So I will stay here with these drops.

Even though the days are flying fast as birds 

escaping from their cage, even though 

slowing them is beyond prayer,  

I stay anchored in their mist. 

I could go anywhere but here I wouldn't 

move a cloud 

or change a scent--the marsh salt's alright with me-- 

as is every color, every pattern, every rumble 

on the street, 

every scene a little treat.

Avert your eyes

when they open the door 

enter

keep your arms to your side. 

keep your face clear.

keep silent. 

when you stand by his bed

don't ask what was done, why his teeth are blue, 

don't wonder where his blood went, 

why his cheeks look so defeated. 

stifle your cry 

when you look at his hands,

when you see your gold ring, 

just look once, look hard, 

then look away. 

don't take this day with you. 

leave it there. 

remember how it was to hold this man.

let that fall on you like snow

let it turn in you as winter. 

North

I always knew where to go 

and where I had to be.

I knew north, I knew 

north and north knew me. 

North was always waiting 

for my call, was glancing at the clock 

up on the wall.

North was always waiting,

always thinking, where 

where where could she be?

Was thinking she was due 

and I knew it too. 

I knew it too when 

it was time to go 

and I knew where to go 

and I knew what I knew 

was true.

No more of that now. 

no north I mean, 

no stalwart point of light 

to hold me fast,

no knowing that, 

no knowing all I knew.

But I do not travel blind now, 

I move from here to there. 

I know where to go 

and where I have to be. 

I know it all from memory.