After the Funeral
There’ll be no more mother. We’ll have to live now
With the looks on the faces of our friends,
And half-open windows, and lamps that go on
By themselves, and an egg standing on a plate.
Last night I dreamt I entered a house I knew well.
A woman, still single, unmarried, lived there, soon
To be my wife, but living with another man.
She stood by the window, and I chose her once more.
The next day, my brother, not dead at all, and I
Found ourselves in the very spot where
The Rocky Mountains rise straight up out of the plains.
That was all in my dream. Later that night,
I dreamt I had entered a monastery.
Men with tonsured heads stood all around me.
Everywhere there were lamps that go on by themselves.
And my brother was there, not dead at all.