Fire—because it cannot know the water. Floodlight 
	because it cannot feel your cloud. 
Cathedral because the voice of sorrow 
	came as sudden as the voice. 

Coffin—because the bareboned humans 
	were once the weight of memories. 
Smoke cup because your naked diary 
	would sooner sing than cry. 
Rainwater because it anoints the wind it came in. 
     
Orchard because the apple 
	remembers faith formed of stray. 
Wedged window 
	because our agonies can’t imagine 
		how to divorce road from river. 

Story—because silence sparks fire 
	to unformed voice. 

Child because the urn 
	is always near. 

Publisher’s Note:

“Answers” by James Henry Knippen is published in the print venue Smartish Pace (Issue 28, 1 April 2021). Smartish Pace also has this video on YouTube of Knippen reading his poem in February 2023 (link retrieved on 11 April 2024):
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4GlHoyCN7Dg

Richard L. Matta

grew up in New York’s rustic Hudson Valley, attended Notre Dame, practiced forensic science, and now lives in San Diego with his golden-doodle dog. Some of his work is found in Dewdrop, Gyroscope, Healing Muse, New Verse News, San Pedro River Review, and many journals of haiku, haibun, and tanka.