Sue Goyette "For the Unrejoiced"

Swallows nesting in the eaves of my mother's house
have given her more joy than a roomful of daughters.
She watches them fly into morning and at dusk

welcomes their return. Every day she feels this joy.
I want a day when it's that easy to find. A day when your hand
on my hip while I sleep is enough. The need-more-

milk-and-bread words we speak into the phone
drift from the wires between us and rain,
reminders of the unrejoiced, onto our skin,

the stems holding up the flowers and the net
of bones that make up our hands. A day,
if the birds don't return, we celebrate their flight.


Northwest corner of Princess and Carmarthen