poetry tuesdays

The Yoke, by Frank Bidart

don't worry I know you're dead
but tonight

turn your face again
toward me

when I hear your voice there is now
no direction in which to turn

I sleep and wake and sleep and wake and sleep and wake and

but tonight
turn your face again

toward me

see upon my shoulders is the yoke
that is not a yoke

don't worry I know you're dead
but tonight

turn your face again