Before Fortune

after Robert Pinsky, “Samurai Song”

When I had no children, I counted

my coins. When I had no legs, I sat

and made a house of ferns.

When the wind made a tunnel

through my house, I watched

bones bleaching in the grass.

When I had no father, the city

was my father. When I had

no mother, I whispered to dogs.

When I had no wife, I could

not speak, except in deepest sleep.

My bed disowned me.

When I had no friends, dogs

barked at my shadow, then

I cast no shadow.

When I had no son, I could bear

all sorrow. When I had no daughter,

I could hear no laughter.