Snap Crackle Pop
July 2nd, 2010
There were years I had no time
for you, but now that you are dead
I take a week out of my busy schedule
to transport your remains
and cast them on the outgoing tide
in my only act of obedience
since puberty.
It is near the lighthouse
where your letter states
the original plan formed
on a starfish exposed
by the receding waves
not far from where
the wild horses
wade the tidal basins
and swim from island to island.
Nothing clarifies the mind
like a good night sleep—
you will sleep a very long night
and maybe we can speak
on that far morning
over a bowl of cereal
coffee and the New York Times
then work the fields together.