Little Match Box
And if there were two moons,
who would sleep when one
passed before the other
and took it in
on its dark side? Wouldn't
some extra light ray out
around the sustaining one?
Wouldn't you sense
the two in one, even if you'd
never seen them parted?
Sometimes a glory
is just that—a guessing-into
the seen, noticing
the fringe of presence
when it comes, trying to match
its fervency by something
as tangible, something
only you are equal to.
And really delicious oysters:
It's decision making time again. I've got that niggling feeling that the thing I've been waiting for is never going to happen. This time, however, I'm not going to let it break me. I'm just going to wave goodbye and walk away quietly into the space he leaves behind.
Maybe.
2 comments:
You said it--don't let it break you.
niggling feeling, waiting, walking away, space he leaves behind.
You are enough to fill that space. Rinse, wash, repeat.
I love Tess Gallagher. I wonder what it would be like to live life as a poet without apology. I suppose history of so many shows it's never an easy path.
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