bear away these laden boughs
unraveled from their trunks and buried
beneath sad and lonely times
sweep the remnants into a heap
sorting through the lot
of damp bark
and prodding twigs
stack together a figure of your likeness
a skeletal imitation with black bones
that crisscross and rattle together
like a chain-link fence
give it eyes of shriveled leaves
that curl back into themselves
like a stolid squint of scrutiny
to hold firm against the wailing wind
and fix up a smile even stronger
than any other sentry feature
for company and for contradiction
against the nagging nuances of life
burrow into the sorrowful pile
that lay beneath your twin
void of foreign creation
and pleading obligations
and once the sun rises---
for the second or the thousandth time---
and melts away your comfort:
that is the time to hide
perfectly poised within the scattered shadows
of your rotting, impartial copy
let it take the lead and let yourself be
the imposed mime of all its waning days
and if a cloud should come
or if darkness takes hold of the sky
do not fear--for you, the shadow,
must hide away with the light
