A coat poses on a peg … waiting;
The newspaper lies beside the chair;
A hammer on a nail is hanging,
The sad-eyed dog, jowls sagging on his paws;
Looks tired, but does not yawn.
Chores waiting at the barn….

A caller rings to ask to speak to Art.

Any evidence that he is gone can bring
A flood of memories and tears,
Fitting response, I think, as part of noting
That cleaning up is difficult this spring.
No hurry now, to set the whole world straight;
We’ll get to work, or work can wait.
Dad is away - won’t be back, early or late.

I am, this morning, haunted by my father’s ghost.
If you would ask me now what’s sore,
I’ll tell you my heart hurts most
To see his worn old boots waiting by the door.

(April 6, 2012, DB)

Alone, this time is slow
though for you faster, I know
out of reach, we do not touch
cannot speak of two
all day I only think in blue
climb these craggy trees
to hide myself away
lay in the seaweed sways
wait the night to swallow
my lonesome day
oh and then the cruel stars
the ones you named
appear, to shine
and speak of you
in vain

"My memory loves you; it asks about you all the time."

---

You're a haunt.
With soft cold fingers,
you touch so tender
the inner-workings
of my thoughts.
Sending shivers through
all my memories;
like my heart,
I love you with my mind.