Posts Tagged ‘separateness’

The miracle cannot be separated from the mess.
—Teddy Macker, “Christmas Morning”

Every time I connect the dots
I get it wrong. It never turns out
to be an image of a tree or a cat

or a happy woman. Always a mess,
lines scratched and scrabbled
and crisscrossed. And always

I wonder if someone else could
get it right? Could make a coherent
picture by connecting the facts instead

of this jumbled thatch of misdrawn
links and errant nexuses.
Oh this strange longing to get

it right. This urge to make sense
of separate points. There are nights
I stand beneath the moonless sky

and realize I don’t know how
to constellate the stars in the ancient ways.
And instead of trying to draw

the lines, I simply look at the stars
and notice how beautiful they are,
how unfathomable the space

that holds them, that holds
the woman staring at the stars,
holds even her longing to get it right.

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We ran from flower
to flower, thrusting
our noses into the rose bushes,
snagging our legs on the thorns
and calling to each other
to come, share this one,
yes, this one, so sweet.
It was a glorious searching,
though what was the point,
the perfume was everywhere.

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How separate we act,
all of us hunched at our own
little tables, rounded over

our thin paper cups,
mumbling into our phones,
or leaning into our laptop screens

or hidden behind the news
stretched out in black and white.
We frown when jostled,

we scowl when bumped,
we grimace at the din
of communion as our

selves steep into the blur—
do you want sugar with that—
it is bitter, the cup, and so

very much what we came here for.

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