Do you know companions?
A father, my father,
had summoned within me
a raised child's curiosity
out of dying and surviving.
Earth was master of us,
save for the terror
of the end of summer.
Speak not of the day
running with failing lights!
I know the catching
of the stars peeking at twilight
close to the opposite horizon.
Enough of the dirt sunk
under Father's raw bare feet
that I could perceive the air
like a flower down my spine
and hear the crack of expanded ribs.
Now I spin around, thinking
to call to my father
from where I can see the summer ants,
because unless he can see
how they will go on not knowing time,
I'll laugh in the dying summer
by myself.
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