by Doug Ramspeck
Here where the years congeal inside the body,
I sleep, I wake, am ferried into the new world.
Nothing changes after always, the limbs of the plum
trees outside this window drooping so low they almost
touch the ground. But still there is something
consensual in moonlight, my mother, in memory,
mopping the kitchen floor at the end of days,
the stars a myth of distant boats.
Doug Ramspeck is the author of five poetry collections. His most recent book, Original Bodies, was selected for the Michael Waters Poetry Prize and is published by Southern Indiana Review Press. Two earlier books also received awards: Mechanical Fireflies (Barrow Street Press Poetry Prize), and Black Tupelo Country (John Ciardi Prize).
Hawaii Pacific Review 