A Way by Sheila Murphy

His eyes are sloped 

and sad gray blue.

He looks away 

in situ frameless.

I see a field.

I leave the field.

I sip the broken.

I repair the yield.

Does he look upon me 

here. Does he ask 

for love. Does he

replay the field. 

How can he revive.

How can he not

slide away. How

can he be still here

Sheila E. Murphy. Appeared in Fortnightly Review, Poetry, Hanging Loose, others. Forthcoming: Escritoire (Lavender Ink). Permission to Relax (BlazeVOX Books, 2023). Gertrude Stein Poetry Award for Letters to Unfinished J. (Green Integer Press, 2003). Hay(ha)ku Book Prize for Reporting Live From You Know Where (Meritage Press, 2018).

Her Wikipedia page can be found at: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sheila_Murphy

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