what goes on afterward
by Myra Sklarew

there is something I want
to tell you
come away from your ether
quiet the singer who stands
at your left hand

the daughters continue
to live

in them
tiny kernels
unfold at their own rate
water does not hurry
the process
though freezing
or thawing might break
open the seed coats
which the daughters
take up
in their hands
like the shroud
they have just now
been weaving

some say
they have carried their seeds
from the tombs
of Egypt
others
from the burial mounds
of Indians

a root swings through its dark chamber
winds its fine hairs
around particles of sleep
proliferates on the wall
fastening us as it moves down
so that we may go on