I am very lucky but that’s not life.

We mean it when we way, “Be careful,” and yet it seems now we aren’t meant to talk. Talk is the pool-sweep and renewal notice, or else just a reminder that we’re on the phone.

Why the surprise. Why joy
or any of the enthusiasms
I can’t suppress.

You get yourself to the point where
you’re sketching on napkins. How to
cluster the balloons, rate of lift. Altimeter,

It’s always already here, moment of deposit
unseen, wave reaching hardest to throw the carcass
where the next set can just reach to wet a flipper—

         The pilfering started this spring,
   a few lengths whittled to a point,
white with sun, light as balsa,

My neighbor who tends the rhododendrons
across the street—mulching, fixing soil acidity,
watering by hose for a long hour each evening—

Let’s suspend for the moment
strictly human concerns, remove
ourselves from those contexts

I know I scared you last night by shaking,
the only time you were forced to share
a dream that seemed so bad upon waking.

i have gathered my losses
into a spray of pain;
my parents, my brother,
my husband, my innocence
all clustered together
durable as daisies.