Wanted to go downward to the fishes’
where no alliances
apart from eating occur
Wanted to ask about the world’s origin
and other such things beyond
the range of asking.
A clear and late summer evening
In among the ash trees
that the years have hollowed into a morgue
holes of dark light wait.
The night more entrapped than at any time
The stones on the road say
that they met a man
walking in the direction of the end of his life.
Someone carries a basket of grief in her hand.
Here is my life, she says
this is what my life has become.
Birds that no longer were birds
died on the branches along with the sunlight
but still sat there.