1. One year anniversary
Nothing graspable. Rather the sift of fine sand
over all: bedclothes, book jackets, mirrors.
A slight grit in food, haze on the steps.
I had thought my adversary would appear
outright, wrestle me like angel and fool,
but day after day I gaze dumbly
at our windy black walnut sweeping and plunging
yet going nowhere. Just suffering in place.
Turns out I can't wait and weep both,
can't make diagnosis any sort of solution.
Not, as I had dreamed, the flush of wine
or heat of bed. No electric plunge
of sled down icy hill. Rather
the sleeping breath of a walked dog
curled now at my feet. Merely the sound
of my wife humming in the bathroom
her pre-work arias. A moment
unaccountably crystalline, winter edging
the panes, and even the fact of cancer
just a fact this blazing day.