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Coda
You waited at the station entrance.
I was late. My hair had turned gray
but there you were, all the snow gone,
all the leaves blown, the leopard sun
having leapt across a life never lived.
My gaze falls on your black eyelashes,
the black silk folds of your dress.
We mourn the same self as we walk
beneath the tracks of falling stars,
gone before we see them.
-- from the current issue of The Paris Review
Radio
I left it
on when I
left the house
for the pleasure
of coming back
ten hours later
to the greatness
of Teddy Wilson
"After You've Gone"
on the piano
in the corner
of the bedroom
as I enter
in the dark
from New and Selected Poems by David Lehman
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