Monday, October 13, 2008
Under cover of light the moon disappears;
goes just like that, following my mother;
travelling not by casket, but instead
by memory and dream, alike
as death and birth, so alike
there's just this mirror between them.
2. Da's Marker
In a cemetery overlooking what used to be a lake
my father’s stone’s a tiny dot in space
smaller than a muon, darker than black hole,
more final than his fall from grace,
marking what the earth has swallowed,
naming who can’t be replaced.
Posted by Jim Culleny at 08:20 AM | Permalink