“Stuff begun in ignorance lasts
as long as a charcoal hammer,”
she says, poet as she is, “and so
I’m nothing but a tourist on your
grief.” There was a message in
the sky, a taste on the wind, that
anyone could read but it stayed
a cypher. Observe how the dog
trots and interpret that in dance.
Yesterday we released balloons
for someone’s birthday; our calm
is barbaric, as banal as ice-cream.