Words That Burn

So Simple.  So Unexpected, by Eileen Hennessy

Practical, impeccably polite,

glowing with righteousness

and the importance

of my town of clotheslines

and light poles and propane tanks,

our well-tempered river lounging

in its luscious bed of weeds,

the railroad running past

my one-way life,

 

I lived

to the complicated rhythms of my days,

the colors of the melodies I wrung

from wet sidewalks and alleyways,

not thinking about death

until the night when,

 

hard driven

by pleasure in a restaurant garden

with wide white-faced flowers

browsing like nightmares in the dusk,

I felt a sudden knowing

of my roots in that ground.