Posts Tagged ‘comfort’

One Comfort

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Just Before Death Comes



You want to say,

She was old, she had a good life.

You want to say,

She was treated well.

You want to believe

that death can be tender,

a blessing, a dark and beautiful flower,

and maybe you do say these things,

and all the while

your heart sags, wails,

curls like a cat into itself,

longs to be held

in some great, warm arms

even as you hold out

your own unsteady arms

to hold what can never

be held.


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and brings the big world in with her—

contagious and boisterous laughter

deep enough to splash in, the scent

of lilac trees and fresh cut grass

and brandy with ginger ale and lemon.

Whole fields of wild iris. Left turns.

She unpacks her suitcase and rapturous dances

leap out and whirl around the room.

Miles of highway unribbon around the kitchen—

there is plenty of room in her home

for the skyscrapers, the great divides,

her own enormous beating heart.

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Just for a Moment

after reading up into the silence the green by e.e. cummings

Cold is the
(hold me)
wind and
sharp is
the barb
(hold me)
sour are
the words
that flew,
and slow
(hold me)
is the ache
to leave.

It’s cold
and though
it won’t
change anything
it would
feel good
(the dark
is near)
if you’d
for a
the train?)
hold me.

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In the boat of night
my boy and I float.

There are no oars.
We use our voices

to move through
the waves. But

the currents take
us wherever the currents

take us. It is dark.
We hold each other

as if there is no one
else in the world.

For this moment,
there is no one else

in the world. There is
his voice. My voice.

His ears. My ears.
Our warmth. And

the cold all around.

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