The Excavation

I am not sad because I miss you.

 

But I have found a starling that the cats caught

and lifted his mangled body to feel

needling bones and slick feathers.

I have seen daylight spread over empty tulip fields.

I have made snow angels in a housing estate.

I have seen the fountains of Paris and on them

floated small wooden boats with red paper sails.

I have dreamed of bus windows.

I have watched interviews with no sound and felt

that sudden quiet loss, and turned from you

like a boulder from a tomb,

like the virgin lake reeds turn from something

they loved once and love no more.

 

These are my sadnesses.

I lift and cradle them like broken birds.

I have always been beyond your saving.