Saul Bennett
On the Trailing Depths of a Daughter Dead
Her train
unfurls
before me
trailing by
a killer
fraction
more
each year.
At first
she drew
so near
I drew
no slack.
But underneath
the terrifying
silent
organ
of the months
and then
the years
in her procession
I can only
pause
and stare
as she recedes
against the ages'
altar.