by Paul Hooker
Requiescat in pace OFH 12.16.2014
This time I drive down December darkness eastward
pursuing the headlights’ path toward where she
summoned me on this too-hasty sojourn not
by celestial portent but by cell phone
no star illumining the horizon but
a cat’s-eye moon peeking coolly
from behind slit-lidded clouds
suspicious of my reasons
for I seek no manger
but a deathbed
but an end.
I bear no gifts.
I am not wise.
I was a son
and he a father