Pivot
The day hangs on a peg.
Salt spills across the tabletop.
On the other side of the window
pigeons startle,
wing it from the red tile roof,
straight up from the chicken wire
over the gutters.
The wind swings now
from southwest to west-
northwest.
I turn to tell you,
but you’re gone.
Table of Contents
Curriculum Vitae
My Teachers
Evening
The Distances
Voice Mail
On First Seeing My Granddaughter in Sonograms
Homeless
Despair Parts
Lost
Newspaper Mulch
The Human Sloughs Its Skin More Subtly
Absorbed
Against Gravity
Exit Wounds
March First—A Marsh—First Mark
Accounting
Dying
Remains
Preparing to Leave
by Stephen Bunch
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The Lives You Touch Publications
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