SOLUTIONS
by David Radavich
For Phillip Levine (1928-2015)
I’m not sure what to say
after a life of not knowing.
The maples don’t share
their secrets, nor the whitetails.
Magpies are altogether
too glib—not to be trusted,
though I love their wit,
their commitment.
Rain comes, bringing relief.
But there still are no jobs,
no compassion, a warring wage.
So all the gold watches
and manicured mansions
belong to someone
I don’t need to know.
Every day I get up and delete
more than I saved the day before.
Names of rivers.
Faces of loved ones.
What could be more beautiful?
I don’t need a dictionary
for my life. Only a crossword
with definitions
I figure out and forget—
peonies, and egrets,
and forays.