The first stanza of today’s selection by Jim Moore (1943-) could be a heartbreaking poem unto itself.
“Love in the Ruins”
1
I remember my mother toward the end,
folding the tablecloth after dinner
so carefully,
as if it were a flag
of a country that no longer existed,
but once had ruled the world.
2
7 A.M. and the barefoot man
leaves his lover’s house
to go back to his basement room
across the alley. I nod hello,
continuing to pick
the first small daffodils
which just yesterday began to bloom.
3
Helicopter flies overhead
reminding me of that old war
where one friend his life,
one his mind,
and one came back happy
to be missing only an unnecessary finger.
4
I vow to write five poems today,
look down and see a crow
rising into thick snow on 5th Avenue
as if pulled up by invisible strings,
and already
there is only one to go.
5
Survived
another winter; my black stocking cap,
my mismatched gloves,
my suspicious, chilly heart.
___________
from Invisible Strings, Graywolf Press, 2011
live in the layers 