The Unlost (For Nana, Carol, Bliss, Tess & Nef)

He wished he were a Sioux
whose language lacks the word goodbye.
Past, present & future
flow into each other
like the bird that flew out of the trees
but eternally would return to roost.
As if all the moments that witnessed
their separate histories
were wounds that never cut at all –
reprieve from the finality
of everyday closures & everyday deaths
his heart wakes up to.
Yes, he wished he were a Sioux
so she, who vanished at the turnpike,
could be found again & again & again.

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