The Yellow Dot

[black-dawning.livejournal.com]

God does what she wants. She has very large
Tractors. She lives at night in the sewing room
Doing stitchery. Then chunks of land at mid-
Sea disappear. The husband knows that his wife
Is still breathing. God has arranged the open
Grave. That grave is not what we want,
But to God it’s a tiny hole, and he has
The needle, draws thread through it, and soon
A nice pattern appears. The husband cries,
“Don’t let her die!” But God says, “I
Need a yellow dot here, near the mailbox.”

The husband is angry. But the turbulent ocean
Is like a chicken scratching for seeds. It doesn’t
Mean anything, and the chicken’s claws will tear
A Rembrandt drawing if you put it down.

In memory of Jane Kenyon

-Robert Bly