You would have loved
the day. The ones before
and after it, too. As we
cover you, I know
you have already
taken root in a new
place, gorgeous
like you;
free of stairs;
bodiless.
I am scared when it
rains holy hell
on you that night—but
why? You aren’t
there; you are
already everywhere.
As winter’s last cold
pelting gives way to
more gentle, infrequent
watering, I see you:
turning up your face,
squinting into the
warming sun, as you did
when I carried you
on my shoulders
to the roof. You are
now forever nourished
by the elements we
returned you to.
I don’t know
how to do this
without you. On
a Tuesday night.
But I heard you tell me:
Live! be free! As
you took your freedom
from this place.
You aren’t here.
You are already
Everywhere.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Tim Lane never thought he’d write poetry, much less publish any. His poetry, fiction, and personal narratives play with movement and stillness, characters navigating wide distances in travel, or the confinements of home. He is a teacher and scholar of Global Health Sciences at UCSF, and lives with his husband Raunn and dog Cinda in North Oakland. Among his favorite places to write are Chris De Lorenzo’s couch and seat 9F on Lufthansa flight 573.