In the romance of grief

In the romance of grief, there are rooms that remain
closed, & for this, the house closes in on the living.

What of the light outside?  What of the bird lighting
on the green clothesline near the shirts & pants?

One summer, the mother walked out into the backyard
& hung damp clothes on the line.

A deer appeared at the edge of the yard & then slowly
walked toward her.  The doe was nervous, its breathing

moving quickly underneath its coat of fur, & the mother
did not move as the animal approached the line

& licked the cool water dripping from one of the shirts.

(c)Jon Pineda               2004

from Birthmark                     

Southern Illinois University Press

Carbondale, Il
for Larry Levis