Two Black Oxen

When they brought your yellow body through the house
my mother cried like petals
falling from a limp rose
hanging upside-down
to dry. 

Somewhere beneath the earth,
your bones are two black oxen
in the dark.

Somewhere in Texas,
I am up too late remembering
I sang to you all night
as you were dying.

Somewhere in time,
we are still witnessing
the brightness in your eyes
each time you saw the blue crane
in the river.