Asher felt the air between his fingers and his feet
fingers and his feet
fingers and his feet

Asher told the ferryman to wait beneath the tree
wait beneath the tree
wait beneath the tree

A guilty premonition in his throat began to bleed
throat began to bleed
throat began to bleed

But Asher took the winding road beneath the oaken leaves
'neath the oaken leaves
'neath the oaken leaves

Where he followed
a wicked laughter from the road
There, the cold stream swallowed
his thoughts: they drifted from the fold

And below
I found my brother
lying in the snow
lying in the snow

Laden and cold
I found my brother
lying in the snow
lying in the snow

Oh, oh

Lo, I found my brother
lying in the snow
lying in the snow

Late lover
Ode for the weekend
Devilish tricks to believe in
Late lover
Oh, how deceiving
I-

Late lover
Hold to the feeling
String up my soul to the ceiling
Late lover
Oh, now we're even
I-

Late lover, loosen your cover
Late lover, I-
Late lover, I'll have no other
Late lover, I-

Late lover
Lost to the season
Echoing whispers that seep in
Late lover
Drawn to the beacon
I-

Late lover
Fragments so fleeting
Holding my breath just to steal them
Late lover
Slow while I'm grieving
I-

Late lover, loosen your cover
Late lover, I-
Late lover, I'll have no other
Late lover, I-

Long do you sleep
Your body lays cold and deep
And cruel memory
fades and eludes

But I'll take the seed
Encase it in melody
Lonely and sweet
I sing it to you

Late lover
Cold through the evening
Caught on a boat to Elysium
Late lover
Look back: it's treason
I-

Late lover
Low and in pieces
Bandages sop up the bleeding
Late lover
Whole, but I'm healing
I-

The shepherd has a job
like anyone else
There aren't many tasks
on his list

He doesn't need a
Post-It note to
remember what to do
before he goes home
Instead, he has one
task that he must
do always

He must be vigilant
and never stray
He must keep
the flock together

The housecat wants
to wander
Wants to see

Wants to hunt the lizard
that lives beneath
the threshold

like anyone else

The housecat needs not
affirmation from other housecats
The housecat also does not
need Post-It notes

But he does find them
amusing

Though they have chosen
different paths
the shepherd and the housecat
are similar

But even so

If a shepherd should find
that his job is to tend
to a herd of housecats

Compromise may be
off the table

Now begins and ends the verse
that folds back into now

Begins and ends, the verse that folds
back into now begins

And ends the verse that folds, back into
now begins and ends

The verse that folds back into now
begins and ends the verse

That folds back, into now begins
and ends the verse that folds

Back into now, begins and ends
the verse that folds back in

To now, begins and ends the verse
that folds back into now

(Begins and ends, the verse that folds
back into now begins)

I was still walking on eggshells when I visited Jill that evening. I’d never lost a family member, let alone a parent; so I hadn't really the means to understand her anguish. It was still fresh, too. We’d spoken since; enough for me to know the details. Still, she hadn't really broken yet. She was all cumulus-- with every cloud at capacity; but not a single drop on the pavement. Not yet.

“My car’s been acting up,” she said, idly. “A few of the engine mounts broke loose and it’s clanking about on the bumps and corners.” Jill tended to default to small talk, and I really couldn't blame her. Especially then.

“Hm,” I noted, agreeably. “Nothing particularly hot on the mounts. You can probably pin ‘em down with a few zip-ties.”

“Couldn't hurt.”

The air had a particular bite that winter. More rain than usual, and the cold was holding on well past its welcome. I noticed it as I stepped into the flat; I had held the door open a bit too long. I peeled a glove off with my teeth and took to another with my empty hand as I loosened my satchel and placed it on the end-table a bit too casually.

Jill’s flat was always dimly lit and uncomfortably cluttered. The furniture was rough oak, which looked almost like cherry in the pale yellow lamplight. It’s easy to admire a creature that prefers the flicker of a candle to electric light. A few books were piled on a plush red ottoman, under which a very lazy Samoyed convincingly pretended to be a bear-skin rug. This all seemed in place and in character. The keen preservation of the surroundings was in fact the very reason I noticed something out of place amidst the clutter.

It was a small green box: placed with intention beneath the hook where Jill kept her keys. I took a step towards it and adjusted my eyeglasses. “A puzzle?” I asked inquisitively, attempting to further the uncomfortable small-talk. “Don’t you hate puzzles?”

“Yeah,” she replied, with something of a quake in her voice. I made the connection, but it was too late. It was all coming down, now. “It was for Mom. I thought we could-- nevermind.” She stopped herself, overcome with embarrassment. “It’s stupid. Forget I said anything.”

I let out a small, stifled breath. Kath loved puzzles. Jill had wanted to work on it with her mother in her final days. But these affairs never seem to go as planned, and the puzzle remained on the little table by the door. I had a feeling it would stay there for some time.

The puzzle, for the record, was five hundred pieces; and its image was of a Basset Hound with his head cocked slightly to the left. Nothing special or interesting or beautiful. Just a stupid little dog, standing there. I don’t know why that image was so striking to me, but it never left. When I think of Kath, I think of that puzzle on the end table, Jill’s eyes welling up before the storm, and an ordinary Basset Hound.