Coming in from planting,
Mattock ringing through the valley,
Eyes bright, I only felt
you there — a fly’s buzz, a curtain
breathing still. When they come,
to empty my room they’ll find—
a curled leaf, the broken pane,
ashtray unemptied and wind.
No lined-up packets,
two-thread sown, seventeen-hundred
which when opened burned from then to
this now — with search engines and chat,
and thousands of matches,
— feeling for the pulse — the beat goes
ta dum, while some say no.
Your breath is still warm in my ear
— the fly’s buzz, the soldered eye
and eternity’s dark horses,
coming ever onward.
Image: Wollongong City Beach NSW. You know when something itches at you…this homage to the great Emily Dickinson – from January 2000 and posted also for Dverse open link night – where Grace is hosting.