Intro To Departure

I. “A hiatus, not a parting.” I waited until stones gathered on the mothy carpet of the living room. Then I stopped, like mothers and fathers, the un-watered Delphiniums window-side. II. Laid a rusted finger on the lip, the dredged ice, Alaskan wind, a single prayer before expatriation and a loaf of pennies. You don’t know what opportune means (question mark) III. A thousand chests, the ribs crumbling; it’s a melody, a syncopation, some Eucharist pre-hymnal tonal exercise. We all waited for false angels, the permanence of grief.