Something To Do With Ravens

We were together
in the only room with stove
I lay on the couch
reading a beat-up paperback
copy of “Clan of the Cave Bear”
and you…I don’t remember.

Cold winter up north
in an adobe house
that wasn’t ours
I was, supposedly, writing a novel
eternally unfinished. And its title
had something to do with ravens…

We did nothing.
It snowed. We fed the horses.
We were preparing
for an actual life: you’d shave your head
take a Dharma name.
I’d have a baby.

Less than a decade later
you were dead
almost still young enough
to be called young
and certainly transparent enough
to be called gone.

Miriam Sagan is the author of 30 books of poetry, memoir, and fiction. She blogs at Miriam's Well -- Read other articles by Miriam, or visit Miriam's website.