Christian Wiman (b. 1966)

Memory's Mercies

Memory's mercies
mostly aren't

but there were
I swear
days
veined with grace

like a lucky
rock
ripping
electrically over

whatever water
there was —

ten skips
twenty
in the telling:

all the day's aches
eclipsed

and a late sun
belling

even sleeping Leroy
back
into his body
to smile
at some spirit-lit

tank-rock
skimming the real

so belongingly
no longing
clung to it
when it plunged

bright as a firefly
into nowhere,

I swear.