milkweed without marble (the first violin)

feckless on the marble
combing for the hidden grease
negotiating with the sleeping waves
not here tomorrow or in the moment
all but weaving oligarchs like skirting trials
that did not place around you or in this sky

they did not tie you to your favorite song
they did not string you to a poem
they did not weather your ashes for you
they have an inability to be here now
but you will not concede your Elvis lighter
or the mountain vacation that remains

you will stand up to the rain
like shelves on seeds, blankets
that do not have children
or oppress the neighbors
not the milkweed enveloped corner
here for the tattered cries tomorrow