prayer to solid things

it’s been a year since he died
since i scalded dishes thanked well-wishers
returned to work a year

and nights still conjure death-mares
spin nooses from tumorous bowel loops
turn doctors to jesters   a year

of their cackling circling my bed
until i soak sheets, compress to a fetal curl
a year a year   but each morning

mercury rises and death-restless
i wash wrap up in patchwork and return
to this vigil, this prayer to solid things:

dear studio he anointed with whiskey and oil
dear bench he soldered of oxidized iron
dear adobe  dear window  dear wall

make me yours: pine resin clay straw
bring him to me—bring him home
or make me wood and stone

________

Amy Karon’s poetry has appeared in Kahini, Cricket, Eastern Iowa Review, Claw & Blossom, Half Mystic, Caesura, Lagan, BALLOONS Lit. Journal, and elsewhere. She is also a medical writer. She lives in rural Washington with her spouse and seven ducks.