What You Missed
The overlarge seas. Salt pressing
the blue. Still, some sparrows.
The sky. The tumbling relief of sky
in the after-winter seasons. Words,
their bright shattering. The wars, new and continuing, elsewhere
and in the same places. Our village, its
versing downward into
a deeper rust. The church tower we
spiraled together, a punchof cloud. I teach languages now.
A lengthening list of curses
and conjugations and ways of asking
for forgiveness. Love, its myths
of many apples.