Two days ago Walter died,
killed by the bite of a rattlesnake
he encountered on an evening walk.
I can't tell you how he greeted us
when we had been away,
the way joy danced in him,
the pain we feel at his going.
I can tell you this:
Late last night as I lay in bed staring at the dark,
I saw Walter bouncing down a country road
and as if I were an onion, a skin of me peeled off
to go with him, and he gave his deep bark
and tossed a stick into the air for pleasure,
and the thick part of me lying in bed
dearly yearned to tap Lucia awake,
take her hand,
LIGHT a 24-hour meditation candle in memory of Walter.