"Death," a poem by Jorie Graham

"Death" by Jorie Graham was featured in the April 8th issue of The New Yorker. An excerpt is included below.

flashed her brights at me.
She was driving straight into the sun.
Her dark glasses flared
as she went by.

Midday wintering light
oiled gently up every tree,
half-brightening, half-
darkening,

stones here and there in walls
picked out & pointed to
by the adamant
winter sun,

and the branches in the air, and the branches draped across the roads
as shadows
were siblings of a kind
I didn’t want to think about.

Read the full poem here.