1.
This is the lawn I looked out on in August
Not knowing you were dead.
All of July you were about to die,
This is the lawn.
July, certainly the best part of,
You were in mortal danger.
In September came the news.
This is the lawn. The grass is norm.
The grass too looks photographed.
Each blade dips, is dipped
Overnight in August, in acid.
These the deer that appeared
All July & most of August.
& the geese honking like a house in flight,
This is the lawn.
2.
A woman wrote
Far into the night, woke.
This is the house broken into in July
Mid-July toward August
By a burglar or a nosy neighbour
The woman woke
In the darkOne lurid green light
A fire-fly
let in by the burglar
Scribbling left
Right, close/
No closer
Over & over
Knocking about
O Inadmissible,
Admitted
You didn’t say
It’s Over?
Doubling back, half frantic
delete
delete
How you tried.
3.
This is the house.
She has checked with the lawn.
The lawn chairs in pajama stripes.
30 days hath September.
This is the woman.
It is still only July.
In all the house there isn’t a sound.
What burnt so bright
Inside or out
Left onOr held battering the night
You burn to say
Over
To her now
This side
It’s you all right,
Over.