nipping your heels
knocking you down inch by inch

and as you gazed beyond the dust devils and whirling snow
in the front yard to far-away places beyond the brittle sundown

to a land of never was where
you guarded your secrets in solitude

the power failed and the generator ran out of gas
your image flickered like an old-time movie

and I saw then for the first time that part of you—
uprooted with the failing foundation of marriage and home

a tumbleweed hung up on barbed wire
a shadow in the mist sustained by a kildeer's cry

a haunting dissonance settling over the breaks
climbing out of bed and slapping the cold floor

with bare feet, waking up alone
in the dark like a silent owl in the rafters

16.

The good Mormon doctor awaited word from the eldest son
Unplug the heart and lung machine

It's the right thing to do
You'll never come out of the coma

The tears in your eyes, he assured me, were a biological
response—nothing more, nothing less

Your mind was gone, he said
You couldn't hear us talking

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