The sun flowers through ice
Some say it’s a white rose
Others a pink lotus
Or a yellow water lily
No one can agree
At first just a spark
A deep-frozen glint
A diamond point
Later petals and rays
Who knows what will happen
When the sun cracks
The surface of the earth
And the flower
Burns through all light and air

Three deer on the property
stand in animal darkness.
They could have just appeared
having never been born.
Without moonlight
they are animals
of their own shadows.
If not for hoofprints in snow
I would not believe it.
Three deer on the property
stand in animal darkness.

Phone numbers we have forgotten,
the numbers we remember
that no longer have a place
and would be foolish to dial.

The house number
in which we were raised
erases itself with us.

The numbers which love
dialed but no one answered.
Those that fell silent
like friendships.

The numbers that exist
in another dimension
now all the same number.

So many phone numbers
for one life.
They are all calling me.
Each one an emergency.

Snow covers a shadow
when the sun comes out
the shadow returns
plumb to the rock whose shape
it casts back on the snow
indifferent to the inches
that have accumulated
a virtual presence
impossible to bury
a layer of nothingness
light’s hand turned over
resting on a blank page

We opened the old trunk,
The time-latched smell of the past.
Oceanic mystery of folded linens.

Old photographs
Of long-lost friends.
I acquaint myself with austerity.

My father’s faded
Wartime papers,
Say even less than he did.

We bring fresh flowers
To an old grave—
Her youth blossoms there.

Opening the album
A photo falls to the floor
Along with the four corners of time.

Cleaning out mom’s house,
In the end, only our memories
Remain unboxed.

Reading my father’s
Handwritten letters,
My eyes beget the man.

On the shore a tree
with eagle’s nest,
the wingspan of the wind
soars over the lake.

It’s raining eyes made of snow and rain
the rain sees everything
the snow freezes everything the eyes see
all the pictures on our walls are weeping
dogs moan with human voices
our faces are drowning in a river
it is the saddest thing in the world
to see a child licking the eye of time

The heart must be bigger than an ocean
it must be bigger than the sun
it must wear elephant tusks
and with heavy legs
march slowly toward its own extinction