scent of rock rose
in the rain
I cross the bridge
like Orpheus did
(if the office is Hades)
trying not to look back
but then I feel white
as a pillar of sal
t
a statue, I stop
at the memory of her face
in her father’s arms
on the porch
bleak and exhausted
on this night of no sleep
if I was to run back
I would clasp
her infant shape
to my breast and rest
all day