zen garden
the silence surrounding
a woodpecker’s rap
spinning drier
her turtle neck embraces
my t-shirt
a sparrow’s flight—
the curve of his breast
in the sand
first robin
my overcoat
unbuttoned
my shadow
making a spectacle
of myself
early thaw—
the earth tugging
at my footsteps
cancer patient—
his favorite ice cream
melts in the cup
sonogram—
they begin to think
about a name
afterglow . . .
in the soft light she looks
like his ex-wife
the smile
of the young woman I passed
on the subway steps—
it ought to last me at least
another stop or two
