I'll read something that's not in the book.
"The Subject of Retreat. "
I don't have that many funny poems.
I'm really sorry about that.
[LAUGHING]
It's like there's a little Wednesday
Adams that I just carry around.
[LAUGHING]
"The Subject of Retreat."
"Your black coat is a door in the storm.
The snow we don't talk about clings to your boots
and powders and puffs and poof goes dust of the fallen right
here at home.
The ache of someone gone missing.
Walk it off like a misspoken word.
Mound of snow.
Closed door.
I could open it.
Then what?
The snow still on the other side, the sound of what I know,
and your no inside it.
Or maybe, you know, just brush it off.