One More Thing

Making the circle larger, I can include
the green shed fading in the lot. Sometimes I think
we already have it. I think the world's that big.
Then your dog dies, and the planets are more perfectly
imperfectly-shaped than ever. I'm not afraid?
How else explain invention? In that story
where the man wakes up and can't find his wife, now,
suddenly, their bed's a moon, too big and too bright.











From Poetry Magazine, Vol. 186, no. 3, June 2005. Used with permission.
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