to see the trees' branches
grey & archaic
against a sky
far whiter than the moon
an old woman's hair
tied in a bun
it is my grandmother's
hair as she embraces me
she blows a strand up through yellow
& absent teeth the hair
fallen over her forehead
o the moon is my grandmother's
bun tide in a million
knots tied to her
ancient head with the stubby
fingers of time
her gold wedding ring
has become a part of her
hand the flesh grown
around it so the finger
the flesh itself
is one with that
circle of gold
aureole of light
on the moon
2.
how often I return to them
the dead in my life
who inhabit dreams
memories while rocking
my son to sleep or a
dream that my Uncle Alex
was alive although we
thought (in the dream)
that he had been dead
these seven years
they are like flies
beating against an autumn window
flies that bang
into my face & enter
the mouth to come out
as words this language
of flies & the dead
this ever diminishing
circus parade of old
people I hang onto
as though without them
I too would cease to be
3.
their benevolence
is there too
the kindness
at leaving shadows
those who have become
memories to bury our
memories in their real
& most noble grave the soil of
anonymity we who
till the past & leave
cemeteries of memories
behind us until the mind
itself enters the earth
& holding handfuls of dirt
sees whole decades
removed from our
fingers as
the earth falls
& we say
our final & most
complete goodbyes
(from Divisions, Coach House Press, Toronto, 1983)