Why again news, no more news
of divorce. I hadn’t heard of these two,
hadn’t dreamed they’d divorce.
A tree sways in the wind, but doesn’t
do as trees normally do, it cracks
like a painting
Why was there no woman of tears
and soft hands to go to this tree,
and massage it before it died?
We could both be in there
still looking – laughing –
what are you doing? –
where will this go?
If I could but draw will from the well
to fill my words –
to pray it not say it all the way through.