While You Were Dying
November 28, 2009
by Lois Marie Harrod
Absence makes what?
Presence, presence. ~ John Thompson
The wooden house with its widow’s walk
squatted at the top of the hill.
From the sea, its cupola–
a gentleman’s bowler like your own.
I was your wild widow
stalking its rim.
Below a wooden ship
stayed the roots of the sea.
The vines strung their grapes
on the cedar until it cracked.
I busied myself putting new wine
in the same old sacks.
No one asked
where you were going.
Sometimes the birds on the wedding plaque
seemed to know
but they kept flying
as if the wooden sky were blue.
Lois Marie Harrod has published 9 books of poetry, most recently Furniture (Grayson Press, 2008 Poetry Winner). Over 350 of her poems have appeared in scholarly journals. She presently teaches Creative Writing at The College of New Jersey.
