for Diana herself (R.I.P.) and her stepmother, who cared for her

Pets,              left unfed,          but
not by you,     not by
          the before

roads itself      northward
for corrections,         recuperation,    for
reestablishing          familial connections
knots           and         meditations (who would
eventually become)     medications,

down                to      the      letter,
                     a prescription
                    marooned armchairs
   the pursuit
   the residue
                 ...a fallen presence

Down to leafing
                               through careful rooms
trying to motivate yourself
                                           to sort through
the thimbles and the thread
                              of everything around you

Oklahoma can count its friends on its eyelashes
and can talk us                    death
                                              to contraction,
making us sink
                                                inward, from
closing spaces          and           sinking bones

    With no way of knowing
    the strength of direction
                                                  too much or too little,
                                              who gives us the rooms?
    whose thread encircles us?
                                                spinebound and scarlet,

who could ever be early in taking death's majestic blanket?
whose eyes have been settled      so hungry in the thicket?