New
Gravity Treading through the half-light
of ivy and headstone, I see you in the distance as I’m telling our daughter
about this place, this whole business: a sister about to be born, how
a life’s new gravity suspends in water. Under the oak, the fallen leaves
are pieces of the tree’s jigsaw; by your father’s grave you are pressing acorns
into the shadows to seed.
from A
Painted Field


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