The Good Son
If God had come to me and said,
if you are willing to forget your self
you will find the cure for heart attacks and compose
the greatest symphonies,
I wouldn't have been sure of my answer.
Because there wouldn't have been enough
attention to my suffering. And that's unforgivable.
But I keep on forgiving myself
with God's love. And it's strange I should say this
because my mother died of a heart attack
after months in a hospital room full of a silence
that lodged itself like a stone in her throat.
And she thought I was wonderful
and would do anything for her.
Ocean
Goodbye again. Say there is a little song in my head
and because of it I can't sleep or change my mind
about the future. Now the song runs all the way down
to the beach where I sit as if the sky
were my room now. No one, not even you,
can hear me singing. Not even me.
As if the music rose from the mouth of the ocean.
No mouth. Like rain before it reaches us.
Like wind twirling dresses on the clothesline.
Who has no one has the history of the ocean.
Lord, give me two more days. So that
the last moments may be with someone.
Stupid Hope
Graywolf Press
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