RECONSTRUCTIONS
This Fall, we left your Grandma's
And had to leave your plant behind;
You said if no one watered it
And it would die, you didn't mind.
You mean to play the zinnia
In
some sorry melodrama.
You offered me, one day, your doll
To sing songs to, bubble and nurse;
You said that was her birthday.
You reappeared then, grabbed her away,
Said just don't mess with her at all;
It
was your child, yours.
And earlier this summer, how
You would tell the dog he had to "Stay!"
Then always let him sit
There, ears up, tense, all
Shivering to hear you call;
You turned and walked away.
Weare like patients who rehearse
Old unbearable scenes
Day after day after day.
I memorize you , bit by bit,
And must restore you in my verses
To sell to magazines.
We keep what our times allow
And turn our grief into play.
We left you at your mother's; now
We've given the dog away.
w.
D. Snodgrass
