Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Blue Herons

Blue Herons


I stopped asking about the mouse
in my apartment.  It is dead; I buried

it in the back of the house, but first
I set it on fire. Never again will it haunt me

in my own space, or steal my words
or walk among the images in my poems.   

Today my unwritten lines will speak
about a thousand and one blue herons

darkening the magnolias with their parasols. 

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