Though I Held An Insurrection of Grief

We didn't have the tongues of angels
but I wanted to stay
in your sunflower world, watched over
by the always-turning, madonna

with goldfinches against the blue
thrilled sky, & risen
heat. Yes, I wanted to stay
near your mathematics of sparrows

You believed every hair was counted
& so were you, translated
in the fluorescent corridors
of the very wakeful Trinity

& yes, with the hospitable clangor
of gongs & all the joy of cymbals
surely you danced then
to some coded, chemobright heaven.

(this one was published in the North American Review; it was written on my mother's death).