Thursday, November 6, 2008


When the sun is on the treetops afternoon
falls easy down the slope to where the wall
holds back the earth, letting me have all
the space I want for walking. Very soon
the earth having turned away, light will be gone
from yard and slope, leaving my gaze to fall
randomly on curtains or my ill
roommate, silent, stoic, all alone
abed or in her wheelchair where she dreams
perhaps of France, France whose facile tongue
falls not from her tongue - none does - but still seems
to cheer her waiting ear - Jeannot, pronounced
"Zhan-knot" by helpful aides, making us smile -
me and Jeannot - even in our dreams.

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