February 2

“I have died so little today, friend, forgive me.”
—Thomas Lux

Lion’s mane and Lennon glasses,
Tom Lux, it was you who first called me
lyric poet.

Knighted, I watched the sword
of your pen mark the shoulders
of each stanza. Steeling myself

in the waning light of my mother’s days,
Lux’s class a luxury,
a friend’s gift.

Meanwhile, at the Cancer Center waiting
for the results of my mother’s scan,
I remember it is Groundhog Day
and am strangely comforted —
somehow, the world is with me.

All of us together,
waiting in the cold, praying for spring.
All of us hoping
the shadows won’t surface,
that maybe together, we will
escape this winter, if only
for a year.