Listen to the world’s best poetry read out loud.

Mamie, M?m?re
wade through the house, the years

come up to their waists, some days
the years come up to their shoulders

floating photographs from the mantel,
dead and living lit by the same light,

and when the years are thickest,
you imagine Mamie, M?m?re ?

as woodsmoke spreads like milk in the morning air,
push off and gently swim from room to room

because you know it’s not like that, time
wrecks their knees and bends their backs, and

when the years rise high enough to carry them,
the years will carry them away.