We sleep upstairs
in the northwest
corner
next door
a single bed
northeast corner
room
to which my wife
escapes
walking without waking
when I snore
and to which
I retreat
when I can’t
sleep
or wake with a poem
to write
quietly rising
and moving
east
while she sleeps
in the west
my star
Downstairs
in the southwest
corner
is your altar
a backless chair
with the large
left stereo speaker
I had it
when you were
a baby
and I walked you
round and round
the table
until you
could let go
of your fierce
battles
and finally
sleep
On top of the speaker
an arrangement
of two small
wood carvings
and one large
carved juniper
piece
from out west
where you lived
for awhile
then died
curving
around a group
of poor man’s
gems
beach stones
each unique
and cherished
placed and connected
to its neighbors
and the bits
of wood
to make your
altar
my ceremony
to shuffle
each
to where
my heart says
it should go
now
they are
together
a much loved
ancient
family
In the same
corner
on the south wall
is a pencil drawing
I did of you
when you were
twelve
or so
you look so sad
I didn’t know why
when I captured
just a little
of who you were
in two dimensions
but now I know
more
about why you
suffered
what drove you
to such unhappy
life
the drawing
of your sadness
is the south wall
of your altar
On the west wall
is another pencil
drawing
by an admired friend
an old man
farmer sailor
musician and
artist
a violent lament
showing a robed
middle eastern
mother or father
a human being
weeping
in despair
holding her
his
dead child
You own
and my memory
and prayer
own
the altar
I maintain
for you
in the living room’s
southwest corner
From the room
in the northwest corner
my office
I look past
my work
to your picture
see your face
Ah but now
it’s December
and your corner
is transformed
the speaker
with its
set piece
of pebbles
stones and wood
is moved north
along the west wall
with its large
window
overlooking
bird and squirrel
feeders
thorny bush
wild havens
woods
and stream
replaced by a tree
we’ve carefully chosen
cut
and brought home
to decorate with lights
and ornaments
to make our hearts
glad
I wrote this poem
to let you know
each year
the southwest corner
for your altar
becomes a celebration
of life