after words

Tell them to pack a small flashlight;
the tunnel is longer than expected, very dark, and
the light at the end, a pinprick.

Tell them to play croquet in the rain
and sing too loud at piano bars
and drink.  Tell them this.

Tell the bartender down at Jack’s you want
smoking privileges restored.  Tell the stars,
Time to go!  Bring the wide sun back.

Tell the black and white cat stay near our happy garden.
Tell the broken frogs I have saved their clay legs
for making whole again.  Tell them this.

Fetch white zinfandels, uncork the bottles
and pour, pour, pour.  There is always more,
tell them this.

Tell friends, family, as you will, unguarded,
wearing your best orange shoes:
I was here.  Tell them this.

[after Jane Kenyon's "Let Evening Come" from Contemporary American Poetry]