"The Prediction."
"That night, the moon drifted over the pond turning the water
to milk.
And under the bowels of the trees, the blue trees,
a young woman walked.
And for an instant, the future came to her.
Rain falling on her husband's grave, rain falling
on the lawns of her children, her own mouth filling
with cold air, strangers moving into her house.
A man in her room writing a poem.
The moon drifting into it.
A woman strolling under its trees thinking of death,
thinking of him, thinking of her.
And the wind rising and taking the moon
and leaving the paper dark."