Breach

Among other worlds I am broken open,
exposed to the cleansing racket of birds,
there a fox like a gift on the garden path,
a beetle moving slowly beyond measure,
weeds through the tarmac, slower still,
and I am but a piece of all this dying.

Back inside, shabby coat on skeleton,
I meet the shining joy of my young family,
their gentle lives infinities outside of me.
A terror that is love rushes in and I pray
let there be no more ruin, provide
reprieve from all dyings and departures.

We sit by the fire and my son writes a story
then says he sees letters floating everywhere.
For how long will I be here to guide this boy?
I reach for words, and still more words,
to staunch this breach, forestall collapse,
and every poem completed cries out for another.