after The Remains by Mark Strand
I find myself lighter, floating
The shoes have no meaning. I have left the road
I do it again in the morning,
I recall who he was. I wonder where he’s gone.
One year spills into another
They are breath in the wind, I empty it
They roll the hills, older than I.
She empties herself but he is gone
I empty mine and rise to meet them
A song is a breath. It wants a reason
Have the hours done their job? I have change
I roll in a circle, over the air. A breath