Three men on scaffolding scatter corn flakes down
For people to see in black-and-white as snow,
Falling around the actor under the lights.

 1

There is an uncertain territory
between night and day.
It is neither light nor shadow:

Three years after my father’s death
he goes back to work. Unemployed
for 25 years, he’s very glad to be

A windfall of raucous jeers
swirls down on my bent head.
Earth burns, slant shadows

When you were born
I was a small child in a bad time
and even if somebody had brought me news of you
I might not have believed them

The world is not aweather
for that moment. My brother
is painting a Sunday picture

The stars have gone north, abandoning the city
For this wilderness that is mine, if only for a time,
Long enough to learn the language of the leaves before

One morning the stove decided not to cook.
The children were startled.
The stove had always cooked—

Yesterday in the locker room
a young man told his friend
how he did it to her

Beautiful beyond belief
to look at you the whole way
would be to walk away maimed