Morning Poem

Saturday, January 16, 2010

11:15 on the couch with an English muffin and really good jam.
Pomegranate strawberry (almost wrote "poem-agranate"). A plate
inherited somehow from my little (half-)brother's grandmother--

white with green garlandy leaves and yellow, orange, and blue
flowers. Halfway through the first month of the second decade
of the 2000s. I could not have imagined this when I was younger.

I'm not sure what I thought I'd be. But I love,
somehow, this plate, this jam, this sitting here. Still,
a city might fall down on itself in a place you have never been.

Port-au-Prince has fallen down on itself. What does this mean
about how we care for each other? About a sunny day in
upper Manhattan, in the year 2010? Everything and nothing.

Pray for us.

1 comment :

  1. This is a lovely one--glad I got to see it and that you didn't take it down before I could.


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