Poem – The Last Song

 

The Last Song

 

The woman driving down ‘one of the most scenic routes in the world

does not see the islands scattered like seeds in the blue water to her right

or to her left, the ancient hemlock and the red flaking arbutus

 

She has forgotten the names of the trees, along with the names of those first people

that lived in plankhouse villages in nearby creeks

and fished these waters in dug- out canoes

 

She thinks not

Of the college class she has to teach the following day

But of her husband, the music teacher

Who the week before on drinking, confessed

there was something more

 

To the salmon leaping in the slow moving river in Squamish

The vague absences from the supper table

 

Another woman, see, with a generous mouth

a heart full of giving ; a kind word for everything

 

On the morning of his departure

She found, on setting out  – sometime afterward –

A bird between the sidewalk and her car

his bird beak open in dead song.

 

 

 

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11 thoughts on “Poem – The Last Song

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