Thoughts of a Dying Woman





it’s a cargo train


or the night wind howling over the Hudson


            it might be a dog 




she and her father visited a goat farm  


once                  the lady in white is a nurse  


  a goat hopped up and ate the roses on her dress




a bird in the window twitches, pecks and sits


the feeder is empty          


              behind the bird 


                           in the abandoned branches of an oak              another black bird descends 




there was a woman                 in her attic             once           more than once


she glowed white in the window frame


                            or was the light hers                   her gossamer hair 


                                         that iridescent blue silk sarong


                                                  draped over the black oak chest  


                                                                        on which she sat


                  this attic              one minute filled with            pearls and gold


                                in velvet lined mahogany                then gone          


                                                like the wind in her window now 




it’s snowing         something is moving under the pear tree                  



                               it’s snowing now                outside                                     halos in headlights            


                                               on streetlights                     on porches     


                                                               undisturbed by the gathering spirits of snow 







Selected Writings:




Thoughts of a Dying Woman


Under the Couch