Poem ending with a variation on a line by Charles Wright. (Poems).(Poem)

 
Poem ending with a variation 
on a line by Charles Wright 
 
   Winter, and sleeves of grey bone hang limp in 
   the wind. The tortured sun has cut its own throat. 
   This late in this late century nothing is new 
 
   or news. We nod off in the early afternoons 
   and wake, unrested, to icy feet and fevers. 
   Under their snowy hill, out of the wind at last, 
 
   my parents continue to repeat their prayers 
   in the same ...