Poems for the New Year

She could touch her toes

Ever since she was four

Now at 85 she still does it

Every morning, every evening

Whenever someone will watch

Will listen

Will see her

What was given?

Light, it came in through the drafty window

It lingered on the table, it spread across the paintings

It made day

In all its colors and shapes

And there was bamboo

And there were cars

And I was hungry

And we talked and read together

Into the night

What was taken?

The breath

It left her

Alone

Body cold

And tending towards stillness

Not a sound trickling through those lips

So we listened to the heater

To the paramedics

Moving her body

To our own thoughts

“Is this really happening?”

“She is gone?”

“Isn’t there something else that could have been done?”

What was given?

A cup of coffee

Waiting to be poured

From the carafe

“How did you sleep?”

The dreams still circling

The man made of the cosmos

Riding a sled of stars

Into the night