Lunchbox Poems

When I saw you ahead I ran two blocks

shouting your name then realizing it wasn’t

you but some alarmed pretender, I went on

running, shouting now into the sky,

continuing your fame and luster. Since I’ve

been incinerated, I’ve oft returned to this thought,

that all things loved are pursued and never caught,

even as you slept beside me you were flying off.

At least what’s never had can’t be lost, the sieve

of self stuck with just some larger chunks, jawbone,

wedding ring, a single repeated dream,

a lullaby in every elegy, descriptions

of the sea written in the desert, your broken

umbrella, me claiming I could fix it.

DEAN YOUNG