The Water Month

I remember days in the silent home
the littered floor and dripping faucet.
The wind. The windows.

I remember days in the crooked yard.
The leaning fence, sweet peas
and wet charcoal.

Before the demolition, the open oven.
The statue and rattling doors.
The moving men.

On the day of the parade
I left behind
my letters.

Poems by John Waldman:

The Water Month
The Heat
Of Madrid
The Lake on the Border
The Woman in the Hat
The Jewelry Box
The Corner
Huber's Tavern
The House in the Town
From the Home of Furious Wonder
From What Is Left Behind
The Den of Finitude
The Story of a Mountain

TIMES TEN: An Anthology of Northern California Poets