Rain smears the glass but she won’t
come in. Her place is walking in weather,
looking into distances no one else can see.
Her husband has not come home.
Wandering, they say, from canyon to mesa
in the province of Lost. This is no
romance, where he’ll suddenly fling open
the door and recant every absence.
They found his pack, discarded on sand
“neatened” – what a strange word,
meant to calm her – night and day by wind
that scrubs away footprints. In that cold,
high desert, he could slip into the balm
of sleep without a waking. She wills him
to count the nights by stars and angels
as if they could map his way back home.
Taylor Graham is a volunteer search-and-rescue dog handler in El Dorado County. Her poems have appeared in The Iowa Review, The New York Quarterly, Poetry International, and Southern Humanities Review. Her latest book is What the Wind Says (Lummox Press, 2013), about living, training and searching with her canine partners.