Creation

Wherever the dead are there they are and

Nothing more. But you and I can expect

To see angels in the meadowgrass that look

Like cows -

And wherever we are in paradise

in furnished room without bath and

six flights up

Is all God! We read

To one another, loving the sound of the s’s

Slipping up on the f’s and much is good

Enough to raise the hair on our heads, like Rilke and Wilfred Owen

Any person who loves another person,

Wherever in the world, is with us in this room -

Even though there are battlefields.