in memory of Stuart Rynsburger
1 after Kim Hyesoon
Turn out the light, you hurt

the night. ‘When you look at me I feel

I should change.’
The day of the first snow

the snow was nowhere

to be seen. Cover your self
with its memory –

a cloud of flour over

hundreds of wooden chopping boards.
2
Pillows are stuffed with feathers – so much

for the early bird. The worm

hides from the sun,
the sun that is neutral but burns.

If there was a blade of grass I would blow through it

until out of breath, like you.
No one does most things. How well is irrelevant

to most things. They go on, they don’t

regardless. ‘All the best’ we said, knowing better.