In Duḥkha’s Fire The light switch offthe bulb coolingthe moth departs. The light switch onthe bulb glowingthe moth approaches. Last nightlust’s flame extinguishedMoth man plunged into darkness. Tonightlust’s flame flaringMoth man flies at the fire. Lawn Care Come, complete the space beside me:best shared, my thriving congressof leaf and blade waningthen waxing at the wind’s direction—with not a weed of discrimination. Our eyes shall herd the lamb’s quarterslest the clumpy crabgrass complain.The white-petaled pennycresswe’ll plumb for their thoughtsand sample the clover’s sweet air. Of course the bluegrass must be heard,the foxtail, sorrel, lusty dockscaling shafts of sunlight.Such green confusion lightly we’ll step,ahimsa the only tool in my shed. We’ll end in the oaken bower,two wicker chairs and a breezeset to lift us from our bodiesand plant us in the tranquil scenetill the chimes of bamboo collect us. Letting Go I go to the riverwhen my loved ones die. My abilities waneand my body weakens:I go. The world takes from me,sets walls before me,and casts me to the ground:I go. When nothing stands in my way,when meaning escapes,and hope is lost, to the river I goout of breath,out of light,out of all that I am. I go.The river heals. Darrell Petska‘s poetry has appeared in The Chiron Review, Muddy River Poetry Review, Verse-Virtual, First Literary Review-East, Buddhist Poetry Review, and widely elsewhere (see conservancies.wordpress.com). Darrell has tallied 30 years on the academic staff at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, 40 years as a father (eight years a grandfather), and longer still as a husband.