Home		Jesse Lee Kercheval After a Death by Drowning
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		I what do you do with silver spoons & babies looking down? Today, a Monday I sat down with our children your daughter who— still a redhead— can count to six if they are apples your son who counts one, then one again, again See our faces reflected in the glass? As a game, we bury seeds— basil, mint, cilantro all around—white cedar/shade the horizon—a cup uncracked overhead, the swallows II In the house rocking chairs & empty beds There is no dog dawdling by your chair— instead a new grey kitten I've learned to wait, demure as yarn turns into scarf even now even after a poet may carry a small self Life? —a map, that flat Or possibly a shoebox In a notebook by the door is where I keep my dead— such an empty plot Outside: the lake that iron water What do we eat? How do we live? Go ask the diving birds III someone singing the night a dot house: here barely broken I picture rocks turned white by burning I learn by burning just watch me no music no needles in the gaudy night where it began I finally understand
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