Maple Grove, Planet Unknown

At your graves, I looked
for the glaze-combed glass,
the women wading
in golden flax,
the valley of trees
and the light
that would catch
in the scene and color
my memory. But

the Earth had shifted,
somehow, removed
us from her. We
watched it, metallic
and smoldering, set
into a horizon we
couldn’t make sense of.
And all I could do
was take a picture.