Now in the dark kitchen he faces the window
where the first stars tremble in the branches of his oaks.
The house is as quiet as a broken watch.
He knows the score—nothing will ever be
repaired again, nothing will ever work as it did. The dumb wind
says as much, and the needles raining in the yard.
The silence around his shoulder is my mother’s arm
The most telling image is in the last line “The silence around his shoulders is my mother’s arm”. Very beautiful.Does not need any interpretation.In fact we would rather not impose any meaning on it.