May 22, 1984

On a day when the forecasts are looking
   the other way,
Grief happens,
And because–
For the innocence of some great love it offends–
Eternity is in it,
It does not get caught in the gears of the clock
   and ground into dust.
Most things do.
Slowly their minutes collect on the grief.
Thick years of them fall on it, bed after bed.
For the crude swelling that is underneath,
The years are uncomfortable.
Lying upon them, one cannot rest.

–August 7, 1987

(“May 22, 1984” was published in the 1999 issue of Ginger Hill, Slippery Rock University PA.) 

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Published on November 13, 2006 at 5:46 pm  Leave a Comment  

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