From "Composition In Loneliness" by Barbara Jordan

Composition In Loneliness

2.
I keep what I've lost, the past being
a kind of compass,

a place where the light will hold
its breath.

And today climbs toward uncertainty,
deciduous moods that leaf

and regret.
I walk in the woods. I get over you.

A burled stick becomes a talisman
for an afternoon, lost among many

sequestered now. A light snow, deer tracks
into wordless places -- no memory

has currency here. Flying off, a crow veers
to look at me:

I'm only a woman
holding a broken branch.

(Barbara Jordan, from Trace Elements, Penguin Books 1998)