No, I don't know
the way to get there.
Two empty suitcases sit in the corner,
if that's any kind of clue.
This spring night,
everyone at the party
younger than me
except for one man.
We give each other the secret password.
Tears? Of course, but also the marsh grass
near the Mississippi:
your whispers and mine,
and the dog's long contented sighs.
|Copyright © 2011 by Jim Moore. Reprinted from Invisible Strings with the permission of Graywolf Press.|