Rising like westerly smoke, the death last night
was beautiful. I’ve got no reference for forests
burned to ash, transformed to sky, but for now
I’ve named this East Coast evening – Dimmed.
Disappointment in Dad’s bloodshot grey, become
Maine sunset. I shudder with the coming
morning. Death may be less beautiful at dawn,
become a film of midnight sweat to wash, a stench
I must admit, I love. I’ll shave my hayfield throat,
make every effort not to nick myself. A pot of coffee,
sugar and cream, pink grapefruit sunbeams after rain.
These things permit less gratitude. Death last night
was beautiful and swallowed the sleeping hours, left me
with a star behind a cloud shaped like my mother’s jaw.
Robert Carr is the author of Amaranth, published in 2016 by Indolent Books, and The Unbuttoned Eye, a full-length 2019 collection from 3: A Taos Press. Among other publications, his poetry appears in the American Journal of Poetry, Crab Orchard, The Massachusetts Review, Rattle, and Shenandoah. Robert is a resident of Monmouth, Maine, where he lives with his husband Stephen. Additional information can be found at robertcarr.org