My hand became my father's hand that day, for a second or two, as I lifted the fish, and I could feel his loneliness, my father's, like mine, a horse in a stall spooked by guttering candles, the popping and black smoke, the quivering flanks. And if a horse, in its loneliness, couldn't manage to
Suffering the Unattainable
Large sea turtles and some whales
will outlive us, water a manifestation of wind in
I had to use the shovel to hack at the wood, had to grab
a hatchet, down deep in the hole. The oak pitched around
like a ship’s mast, or I was no longer alive; perhaps I was yet
all over again, though I kept recalling your name. The verdurous roots.