ACCOUNT OF MY DAYS
Sequence: 3
EARLY HEAT WAVE
the new moon takes its pincers
to the shadow of the month to come
those ants the other day who found
the shred of pear dropped from my mouth
they were so quick-moving they would have
looked like birds if the flagstones
had looked more like sky
the heat hangs on after sundown
a jet drags its white tail across the dusk
I listen carefully but nowhere is there
a sound like my mother's troubled breathing
I can feel my listening go out
in every direction all around
everything is round: earth sky
day night stars space
all round
ever is round never is round
but there is only one center for both
a tick or tock out of which
either one is equally likely
to come to pass
the unhurried and inescapable now
at the same distance from all extremes
I think of my mother breathing far away
I think of my footsteps going on
without me somewhere someday