Folding Hands on the Ocean of Time

a broken chimney
smoke drifting into silence
the crackle of the fire
a soft voice
I remember

I found her footprints
in a pair of old shoes
the wind blows
and we go
at different times

he played the accordion
at weddings
everyone danced
at his wake
the smoothness a ship makes
upon the ocean
of time

a marble god
rests his ruined stare
on the thin smile
of a new moon
ready for her bath

starlight
needles of night
knitting shrouds

*

The marks are on the balance arm,
not the scale pan.
The fisherman steadies his boat
and falls asleep.