(after Answers by James Henry Knippen)

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 bare-boned 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.

Richard L. Matta lives in San Diego, California, caters to his golden-doodle dog, and enjoys being on or near the water. Active in San Diego poetry circles, some of his work is in The Dewdrop, Healing Muse, San Pedro River Review, and New Verse News.