After

1.

It does not matter the after—
Sex or burial
You’ll speak a dog’s language.
I’ll come back to it.
I will weep or laugh
With the tarot
And soon
I’ll come back to that.

2.

After my father died
I lay down
Before his grave—
The after-dog.
It didn’t matter
As a boy
Baltic rain woke me
Or that the dog came home
In a Finnish rhyme.

3.

And it doesn’t matter.
Execution is the chariot
Of genius Blake said—
Here’s a place to weep.
Dog-talk.
I like saying
I’m going on—
This leads to a garden.