Heaven

A poem

All afternoon the sprinkler ticks and sprays,

ticks and sprays in lazy rounds, trailing

a feather of mist. When I turn it off,

the cicadas keep up their own dry rain,

passing on high from limb to limb.

I don’t know what has shocked me more,

that you are gone, that I am still here,

that there is music after the end.


Presented by

David Baker’s most recent collection is Never-Ending Birds (2009). He teaches at Denison University.

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