Nightmare Songs: 3

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3.

The chords don’t behave. We have obliterated the fresh snow.
In this regimented fall there are leaves piled into burial mounds.
Can we forget the seeping carcasses?
Our water draws from one well—through earth
we gather nutrients and expel less than gold. These courageous returns,
our medallions in a land-locked expedition: the river we forged
against the first snowfall, the boots that froze
and thawed in the night fire and froze again the next day
for a month. He lost his smallest left toe.
There are accidents even to our feet in this world,
and all injury is undeniable against good health.
The collapse of the dependable—our hearts
will keep some secrets from us forever.
Can we forgive ecstasy its denials?