the newly-dead swim away from us, green,

iridescent, sweet-snicked as grass pulled

from its sheath, there’s a cleanness, a tremor

in the full air like music where there’s none

the way waterfalls quiver what we breathe,

ballast of gladness? relief?     a small gold

which shivers through pummeled days just after

death, we see it unfold in the current

of absence      we walk through like a high wind

heads down, wondering who or what broadcasts

this refined and flickering flip of light,

released, are our dead at last so large?

perhaps it is a blessing, let’s accept

the stir as a final adept, See you—

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