DIMINUENDO
- DIMINUENDO
I hated it when someone called Do OverWhen something unforeseen had come along,Friends shanking shots, flipping cards wrong,Botched jobs, strayed wishes, impromptu bothers—
Like lemmings tipping off the cliffs of DoverBelieving rocks the last place they belong.I’d always hate it when someone called Do OverIf something unforeseen just came along.
Those listless hours I’d listen to my motherSinging (was it praying?) the same declining song—How all she’d hoped for died away all wrongAnd no way back or out to something betterTuned to her dissent—I need a Do Over—Her life grown short, foreknown, the evening long. [End Page 49]
Daniel Tobin is the author of seven books of poems, including the book-length poem From Nothing (Four Way Books, 2016). His awards include the Robert Frost Fellowship, the Katherine Bakeless Nason Prize, the Massachusetts Book Award, and fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts and the John Simon Guggenheim Foundation.
