A Promise to D.H. Lawrence

Henceforth to gaze at little wild birds
and not feel pity when
they fall, frozen-dead from their boughs.

To be enamored with fish and the bending
of seaweed and the soft padded feet
of gazelle calves, quietly following their mothers.

Never to attend circuses.
To accept that science and mysticism
are the same, when they start

telling us why tigers are striped
or nightingales sing, naked and loud
on the edge of the branch.

To make each day a savage pilgrimage
into the graveyards of Man
and whales and elephants too, their ancient bones

unwrapped in the soil, the salty waves,
the gaps beneath icebergs.
To love from the gut and promise nothing.

To try and fail, then try again.
To build my ship of death,
for someday I will need it.

-- Michael Meyerhofer

Whatever, kid.
and Plath would take her brandy
and water to the hillside to watch the sighs
resound in the graveyard