Cane, Step, Cane

for Mary Esther, A resurrection

She walks on the beach
alone, a solitary walk. The cane
is in her right hand. She bends

close to the water, picks something
out of the sand. She is out of
my clear vision now, blurred

with my glasses off, I still know
it is her. The cane is a part
of her. It was a part of

her mother too. Sometimes
when she walks ahead of me
I can see her mother

appear suddenly, then she
becomes my wife again, yet something
has shifted, in time, this place

is new for the both of us. In the
villages of Viet Nam family members
die, but they never leave. I stare

out at the ocean. There are
shadows on the water, spirits
walk the beach, step, cane, step.