Last Poem

i.m. Paula Neuss & Sylvia Plath

We don’t forget              we don’t forget
All night your stars          blaze on the hill
which is to say                  all our lives
Childhood shut fast           behind a door
My mother, too                   built a room that
she would later                   die in. She dug her
own grave in the air         And in the small
backyard there was              a stone lion
a thicket of ivy                   And in the house
there were books              But the words
that were there               were not omens
of death, they are alive         And everything
you wrote is alive                  So tip the milk
back into the jug                  Take the blanket
from the crack                  under the door
Come back, come back from the beyond
where the moon               stays sad all night
but doesn’t hurt                   it doesn’t hurt
when the clock                   runs backwards
and, survivor                     you are older
than you could ever         have imagined
and there’s still time               still time
for you to write                  your last poem
in praise of long life