Issue/Publication:

Poem

October 21, 2002

Do the dead miss us?

Is interstellar space thickened

by longing?

The five senses return

to source--

“not one speck of dust”

they say, reducing reincarnation

to metaphor. Unless, in the constellations

between atoms,

where blizzards  of electrons

whirl, some wind-blown track

remains awhile, the print

of a ghost whose tears

evaporate into the dark

where hummingbirds and dolphins

and the pomengranite stain

on a crushed napkin

fade too.