I held up the femur
of a grasshopper

some blue air fell over me
what I want is less clear to me
now than it was then

to be loved to the end
without ruth or recrimination
to forgive myself as others

have forgiven me
to enjoy the birds
with little bones

at the farmers’ market
I still see his truck
from time to time

notices on utility poles
for a lost dog answering
to Scout sometimes I sit

in a café pretending
to read but knowing

I want to be the one
to find Scout
instead

I do what I have done
I wake up and join
the struggle

of the trees
to find a way
through and then

a dark clot
of poetry breaks off

—C. D. Wright (1949-2016)

This is drawn from “The Essential C. D. Wright.”