Every Song
A poem for America
Every Song
Iris follows me behind the barn
that leans into its shadow
to show me the scar that slides down
from her navel then is lost
in the brown nest where her child
could not find the strength
to breathe the air that lifts the crows
above the power lines that sag and hum.
Beyond the wind the thought of wind is born.
And every song begins and ends with loss.
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