I am writing two letters I know I’ll destroy,
I am fashioning purposeless lists,
Grown wise at the feintings our scruples deploy
To keep us from slitting our wrists.
I am fondling objects that soon I shall lose,
And dusting off books on their shelves,
I am haunting the hedgerows and sharing my news
With creatures more wise than ourselves.
I am reckoning assets, (such things must be done),
And planning the best for the worst,
If my wishes were horses, I’d choose just the one —
To bear off my mother’s life first.
I am heart-sick for lovers, for friends who will mourn,
I have given my dog to a friend,
I am bracing to bear what I know must be borne,
Though I fear I shall break at the end.