Indian Summer: Fairfax, Va.

November 17, 2008
Now, it is the time of evening
as invisible stars descend across my father’s gate.
For one more hour. One more hour:
I want to rest in the Sabbath lawn
with catsears and violets in a pyre—
lighting my vision of a Virginian summer.
Today is spring. You breathes a saccharine lie.
Today is spring. I burst into notes of a Psalter’s rhyme.

I am the gray goose who collapsed midflight
and tumbled to earth twisted in spires
golden as perfection—-my wings
melting to ash and sand.

In the mania of descent,
I saw my father, a boy
Icarus reincarnate,
fall into a bluer

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