Posted on Friday, July 22, 2005 - 5:23 pm:

 
 
Virginia, this is the part I don’t understand;  
 
                          the selection of stones, 
 
 
how you searched path, cove, shallow water  
under an old oak, stood on the shore  
like a child, claiming each one  
in your woolen coat.  
 
                           This is my death,  
                           this is my home. 
 
 
In December, cold alone  
would've been enough to take breath,  
sink bone and yet you chose  
 
                          granite, quartz, loam. 
 
 
And this is where I wonder  
if being a woman, a woman  
whose words rose  
from the ice of men,  
 
                          floated above,  
                          found their own. 
 
 
If you forgot for a moment,  
basic principles, rules of thumb,  
believed after careful  
investigation, you  
somehow with a hand  
 
                          removed weight.