Paul Vangelisti, p.5

                                        for Toby Oshiro

In this goodly country in gentle autumn
the forest around the city remains closed,
in a dream the dead come to do laundry,
squirrels just about reach the front door.
War is everywhere there is no democracy
or future in losing weight. Here on a branch
the ruby hummer pauses like a butterfly.
The cat’s asleep and Monday weighs like Sunday
on the perilous and tender-hearted.
To find a horse or memory swift enough
to convey this message of regret for missing
your splendid table. Who knows how long
it might be. The dogs have only now begun.
The trees are motionless, imposing without
even a shimmer. Anything you say or do
means so much on the open market.
Destiny has been done deliciously
down to the silliest captain in a storm.
Here the sun in the form of a question
has risen already twice this morning.
Eat all you can, tomorrow will be more.