If there ever was one moment, one breath
like a new clear lacquer on an old crate,
it was the day by the flat rock your pond
reveals only when August takes off weight,
leaves everything under a fine microscope,
earth-fire ashen yet in the faulty lines,
a sign dry August dares read of that bond;
it says such a moment can have no redesign,
cannot come back as trued, that its death
is final, except full perfection’s retell.
Do you remember, in tangerine moonlight,
night syrupy, how your breast quick fell,
just one, from cupped safety of your hand,
a cub from den, fledgling escape high nest,
petal and aureole abloom in one slow rush,
bound by rock, my waiting on all the rest?
Sheehan served in the 31st Infantry in Korea 1951-52, graduated Boston College 1956, published 30 books, multiple works in Rosebud, Literally Stories, Linnet’s Wings, Serving House Journal, Copperfield Review, Literary Orphans, Eastlit, DM du Jour, In Other Words-Merida, Literary Yard, Rope & Wire Magazine, Green Silk Journal. He has received 32 Pushcart nominations and 5 Best of Net nominations.