“We begin in admiration and we end by organizing our disappointment.”
—Mary Ruefle
Death took her spirit; her body remained.
Daily, I greet the jar of her remains.
We can’t organize these disappointments.
Eight of nine cups have broken; one remains.
Violent winds shear away foliage—
soon only vultures, bare branches remain.
Time is a box that can never be shut.
In light or in shadow, colors remain.
Autumn days end in purple and pink.
When the sun leaves us, bright Venus remains.
I can’t see you, but I know you are there.
As a baby grows, the mountain remains.
Daily I read about persecution.
Somehow, my love for my neighbors remains.
Green leaves of the tree make food for the roots.
Young shoots support the heartwood that remains.
Only one of the nine cups is uncracked.
The poet sips from it, toasts to what remains.
Kathryn Good-Schiff is the author of Love Letters to Ghosts (Meat for Tea Press, 2025) and has published poems in various journals and anthologies including California Quarterly, Naugatuck River Review, and PANK. She lives with her wife and their animals in western Massachusetts, where she works as an academic librarian.