Glinda The Good is Gone
       

A crosswind — the Norway's leaves flash
like sunfish in a man-made pond.
Still waiting for someone to ask
if I believe in God.

Maple keys footnote the ground.
As a metaphor maker I'm qualified
to point out the asterisks.

A quantum resonance
separates the perfect day
from the perfect day for a funeral.
A question of which question, which universe,

witch principal.
I pray the priest at her deathbed
took a moment, fluffed the pillows.

Weeks later two cawing crows flush
a hawk from the now-bare tree
with a fear unlike fear.

Because because because because because.

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Copyright © 2019 Matthew Tierney All rights reserved
from Midday at the Super-Kamiokande
Coach House Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission