My Daughter Abigail, When She Was Five,
Said That When She Was Older I Would
Probably Be Dead But That It Didn’t
Matter Because She Would Be Married.
It Was A Gentle Remark And Me Not Being
There Seemed Natural – Being Present
But Not Gone, Like A Child Playing In
The Crawl Space Found Beneath A House,
Hearing The Sounds Of An Adult World
That They Are Not Yet A Part.
Death Seemed Similar – At Peace
In The Crawl Space And Life Continuing As It Should.
I Have Withdrawn Here
Lying Low
Listening To Life Left Behind
Above Ground And Previous.
Crowded Into This Crawl Space
Tombed Within Shadows
My Heart Gently Beating
Beneath Small Sounds
Of Children Left Behind
In A World Of Their Own