Late Work

I feel compelled to give you an ending, a promise of hope 

   to move against despair 

even if the act is simple as falling in love, another city, 

   a long day casting shadows in the park. 

I lost something & can’t get over the fact— 

   the most powerful world 

was the world of destruction & high. And, or, 

   I ran through the cane fields in splendor. When the interior 

puzzled with the physical world 

   I cut myself down. The way & I became brothers. 

Not blood. Not sugar. Not rust. 

   Snow in Calichoza. 

In the too soon & always, I held the machete, 

   I built myself 

a life.