Leavings

I

One star fell.

The firmament loosed and

frangible.  

Such an omen,

such a void in

familiar constellations,

such a fissure

scored the sky; blazed and faded.

Then such darkness

against the pinprick in my mind  

where your effulgence remains. 

Then such darkness

and clinging to the phone

that brought the news,  as if

 you’d land on our telephone wires

and materialize in my hand.

II

Tracing figures in the sand,

pictures for my daughter.

Tracing words on a page,

 trying the train I may leave.

Do our leavings race forward like train rails or

follow like tracks in the desert?

III

I’d like to leave at least

a wake in water; filled to

overflowing.  Like our

dog comes running, ecstatic

from his bowl, drops

flinging off his jowls,

baptizing us in his affection.