February 6, 2018
Today every song is a diary of lost dates,
moments cured in precision
and stowed away on a train to the next town,
always yearning the beyond, around that precious bend.
Or, a funeral for tomorrow, processing the improbable
present. Lights, flickering. The starling’s first peep.
All urgency dies. Outside, leaves float in the fog
as I drive away to a finite point.
Now, a whistle mourns the day’s broken
surge; never having said goodbye, you move on.
* * *
“February 6, 2018” was published in the North Dakota Quarterly in February 2019.