“…and it
entered my strictured heart, this morning,
slightly, shyly as if warily,
untamed, a greater sense of the sweetness
and plenty of his ongoing life,
unknown to me, unseen by me,
unheard, untouched-but known, seen,
heard, touched. and it came to me,
for moments at a time, moment after moment,
to be glad for him that he is with the one
he feels was meant for him. and i thought of my
mother, minutes from her death, eighty-five
years from her birth, the almost warbler
bones of her shoulder under my hand, the
eggshell skull, as she lay in some peace
in the clean sheets, and i could tell her the best
of my poor, partial love, i could sing her
out with it, i saw the luck
and luxury of that hour.”
