Door in the Mountain: New and Collected Poems, 1965-2003

In the Burning Air

The Passing The shimmer gone out of what we know Bells din dan dawn but we—down here—you little Lord the needle North and move the boat In the Burning Air In the burning air nothing. But on the ground, at the edge, a woman and her spoon, a wooden spoon, and her chest, the broken bowl. * She would long to dig herself into the ground, her only daughter’s ashes in her nose in her mouth her only daughter’s makeshift ashes nothing lying in the hole in her chest 36 door in the mountain But her eye would still see up into the ground above her, still see the upper air —Let her lie down now, snake in her hole, house snake in her hold. Little house Little house clay house thousands of funeral smell ground swell we knew the boat of right action but the road rubbed out —water gone! —the dead girl gone! (was she pregnant?) dishes blew by I searched my hollows rubble Burnt grass teach me before I forget you into a time when I sit and roar over the flowers and don’t know them new poems 37 ...