metonymy4u

Just before we died I liked how calm felt
locked away in the old trees. Do birds
die on the way down?

Or do they sense it quickly and find a bed of moss?

I only ask because it seems I remember sounds, nearly,
that still curl round the twigs of the Meyer lemon
tree you planted after we moved in some
20 odd years ago.

I’ve already said good bye for you

to all the trees in your yard—the impossible pine, the maples
and the transplanted fern. Listen to poetry whenever you can, ok
Dad? It will help you not miss me so much.
O if only wishing were wise enough.

But it’s your life I can’t stop loving.

And I’d rather leave before you arrive. I’d rather die
alone in the desert than see all this happen again.
Though I know the peace you’ve earned is the forever peace.

Dad you’re my oldest friend—let’s go
on talking about things forever.