After the Fall
eager for a child
to take me home.
I’ve seen it happen
to my relatives
and friends,
Some asleep
with long stems
gracefully exposed,
While others
patiently await
a democratic wind.
But if a child
doesn’t come,
what then?
Will an old man
rake me to his
garden by the road,
Or will I blow
away and not
come back again?
October 3, 2005
Previous Entry Next Entry Return to Songs and Letters About the Author
Main Page
Author’s Note
Background
Notebook
A Listening Thing
Among the Living
No Time to Cut My Hair
One Hand Clapping
Songs and Letters
Collected Poems
Early Short Stories
Armenian Translations
Interviews
News and Reviews
Highly Recommended
Let’s Eat
Favorite Books & Authors
Useless Information
Conversation
E-mail & Parting Thoughts
Flippantly Answered Questions