Today's poem is Upon Learning her Husband only has a few Months to Live by Dennis Camire. It is read by Julia Bouwsma.
Upon Learning her Husband only has a few Months to Live
She recalls gold finch and robin
Flying off with his coiled, gray locks
After she cuts his hair outdoors
So, that last spring, she shears
His hair closer to the tree line
Then tosses the manes, like bread
Crumbs, to swooning moms-to-be.
Soon she envisions the looming
ravens of grief quietly nesting
in some solace as, widowed
her first Christmas, she'll task
her grandson to scale
a naked deciduous tree to retrieve
a soft vessel of a nest
Which, set on bed stand, keeps
Memories of him more alive
Than any ash-filled urn atop mantle.
And the more she imagines those
Salt and pepper tresses espied
(Between hay and twigs bedside),
The more follicles of solace grow
And curl with visions of grief
kept at bay. Now, they read
about nests before bed
And, together, nurse on succor
In learning how generations of birds
Recycle the moss, floss, and deer
Hair. See, then, how it ends with him
More easily letting go of his soul-
Mate as they marvel at his hair's
Heat-holding properties lowering
goldfinch mortality so offspring
always bloom at her feeder.
Who'd have thought they could
nest so warmly with death
When considering the future robins'
Fallen wing feathers delivering
A recycled piece of him
To brush against her lonesome cheek?
Who'd have guessed
all these soft, gathered thoughts woven in their last words together
would soothe those death-restless heads
even more than the pillows'
dependable, down, breast feathers?