Published in Lavender Review, June 2023

All of It

Remember the fluctuating sea,

morning on the beach, the sun’s

orange disk, like a porthole into divine fire.

Remember the seals, one then another,

bobbing up, as if to play, or say hello.

Remember the swim, the sharp rock,

the gash on your leg, remember

the bee sting reddening your ear,

the itch and swelling, with something

to tell the wandering mind.

Remember the hard walk, the cobblestones,

the steps on the path, remember

the church services, the vespers,

the nuns blessing your knee.

Remember the time—not long ago—

a day closed you into an ambulance,

your heart beating too fast to bear, remember

being lifted up in the air, waving goodbye,

calling out: Tell the children please.

Remember the peace in returning to dogs,

to house, to your wife Clara lit within,

remember swimming in the pond again,

in a body made new by gratitude.