My Father Loved His Death 8

The carts hum away;
quiet flows around him like rising water,
except for his spikes combing through
the long grass of the rough, a sound that reminds him
of his Janie's fingernails on his scalp
as they lay in the narrow bed,
eyes inches apart.
Then he's on the fairway,
and the earth spreads out around him,
the real world, the one that bears us up,
that bears us,
and tears take him,
for he loves to love.

^^^ <---|---> <|>


	The carts hum away; quiet flows around him like rising water, except for his spikes combing through the long grass of the rough, a sound that reminds him of his Janie's fingernails on his scalp as they lay in the narrow bed, eyes inches apart. Then he's on the fairway, and the earth spreads out around him, the real world, the one that bears us up, that bears us, and tears take him, for he loves to love.
^^^	<---\|--->	<\|>