Elizabeth, Dear

Your heart is so very dark, you see
as you talk to the postal service
representative, dark and broken,
and breaking open the soft-
ware. There is no degree
of darting your eyes around
to see the darkness, how you bend
yourself to touch it, and turn
it over. Oh Elizabeth, sad as smoke,
screwing hands in your chair.
We will retire and there will
be seizing underneath the
Costa Rican shade. Insects
sticking it out and you in some
large white hat, my Elizabeth,
the pieces of light taped
to your hair. I can see it. The trees
the canopy trees and the man-
groves, the shadows of birds
that look like hearts. They do fall
down the trees and go. They fix
these pale little nests and go.
And sleep, Elizabeth, on the dark
roots, between the elbows
of night, and go.

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