After Oz

midnight we slip into her room

and fill her pockets with stones

so that she is weighted down

so that storms cannot move her

she disappears for hours

then staggers back smelling of straw

of animal

perhaps we have lost her

perhaps home is no longer comfort

or comfort no longer home

evenings we sit awake in

our disenchanted kitchen

listening to the dog whine

to dorothy clicking her heels

*

From “Mercy”

(BOA Editions: 80 pp., $14.95 )