Grade A: Peace

Written in Albuquerque (Terrace SE), April 2007.  “Deep down the high brightness” is a conscious echo of a line from Hopkins’ “God’s Grandeur,” “there lives the dearest freshness deep down things.”  Published in my books The Hardest Thing and Wings of the Gray Moon.

Peace

 

Not quite noon,

the earth still toppling away from night,

the dead middle of night

where the sun sits.

The dead housefinch in my driveway

hasn’t been disturbed by any violence,

even a death in midair.

Really, it looks like it walked there

and huddled asleep like a human,

a shoulder lifted a bit

to shade the glare of cracked mud,

its onedimensional feet flung limp

as if sleep finally couldn’t be fought.

I scrape it into a bag

of course

and convey it to the dumpster

saying I’m Sorry to the empty world

and it fits and falls there,

this time it falls,

between a pizza delivery box

and the box a pump-up air mattress came in.

Another slit of harsh redbrown

deep down the high brightness.

I think

I am thinking of peace.

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