Poems for Persons of Interest

On These Earthly Nights Perhaps she simply needs one tie – just someone walking home at night across his still and silent town who in an instant is struck blind by words he’s read, when in their light baroquely braided wings reach down through leafless elms, past midnight’s dome that arcs above his human sight. Her poem offers to surround him. It might also be, till then, he’d only lacked one verse that shone its benediction, lacked the right bright image flashed on inner lens so he, too, finally feels at home in exile on these earthly nights.

Outing After Emily Dickinson, “I started Early – Took my Dog” I started early – took my dolphin and wandered as I went. The ribbons of the seaweed curls were all the coin I spent.   Started early – took my dollop of sweet and creamy clouds, fine-spun threads – one mounting bulk that echoed dark – and loud.   I started early – took my dole of tender life – and crumbs. A clatter offstage jittered me in shades of quince and plum.   I started early – took my doll to settle – shaky hands. The ears of scent – the taste of sky bewildered every plan.

  Have Mercy on the Children Who Were Chosen Have mercy on the children who were chosen; For what was given can be given back. Have mercy on the family of spare parts Assembled by a judge with stamp and pen.   We look with longing on the accidents: On fumbling teenagers who lose their heads, On babies kept in panic and despair, On fate; on flesh and blood with flesh and blood.

  Mother's Lessons She taught me gin rummy and badminton, to make Chef Boyardee Pizza with a crust ten-cent thin,   to cut a chicken into pieces, fry it in a pan of Crisco, to keep my thoughts inside my head, to walk on eggshells   if I let one slip out my mouth, to hover at the edge of a room, to remember she was listening, even when   I didn’t know she was there. I learned that homework came before play, that a “B” was a debacle,   that a hairbrush was not meant to collect hair. That I could make my bed before I was out of it, that praise   given in public would not change her silent stare in private. I watched her   destroy a lifelong friendship over a pair of black pumps. Today I sat beside her bed, read to her, held   her leathery hand in mine, kissed her cold cheek, because I know what it means to need small mercies.   She taught me that.

Riparian Zone Fremont River–Torrey, Utah Remember gray-green tamarisk shadows, grasses Watered by a river’s lapping shallows. Remember mule deer browsing fallen apples, Orchards planted outside vanished cabins Built by men who planted a society Briefly in that crease of dry red rock Greening in the merciless sunshine.   Remember: we could walk beneath those trees, Where water glimmers in the thirsty desert. We could see again the long dry twilight’s Cool onset: sharpness giving way to shadow, Long-eared mule deer, brindled in the fingering Tree-shapes, grazing silver-seed-tipped grasses, Fallen apples softening to water.