When you leave a place in mid-march
you can’t expect that it
will be the same place on return –
in how it feels; or how its lit.
There was a blizzard when we left,
now trees drip in the mists
and waning piles of dirty snow
as scuttled sailboats list.
I think the crocuses have got
a fighting chance this time;
their February siblings, froze,
collapse back into grime.
No seasons pass me without some
slight worry in these days
but weather is not watching me
nor notices my gaze.
how crisp in contrast
the black branches and
blue sky above red brick
white windows grey slate
shingles that shine in
the bright slanting sun
I feel like I have
been punched in the arm because
I have been. But, damn
you should see the guy
who isn’t me, the other
guy. He was busted!
Flowers grew out of
his ears and between his toes
and fingers. I mean,
if you think spring did
a number on me, all I’m
saying is, look at
that guy, grass growing
all over his shoulders – gosh!
I wish I was him.
One thing I am learning
is that loving somebody
and knowing them
isn’t the same
What I know about my husband includes:
the way he feels anxiety mostly
once the cause of it has passed,
how he sings nonsense songs
to gain control over an unruly mind —
also how he looks at me,
and a little about how
he learned to trust me,
and trust us.
What I don’t know includes:
what he is thinking when he sings
and how he says hello to people
when I’m not by his side,
what he is like when people
who are not me first meet him.
Is he an easy colleague? a frustrating one?
What I don’t know is not limited
to this
or at all.
I love him.
And I getting know him (with me) pretty well,
but I do not know him with the world.
I could not explain him accurately:
what I don’t know encompasses all the space inside
and outside of him.
A day spent all in
anticipation of snow.
Will it really come?
***
Yes. And then came rain.
Snow drips slowly away from
branches, car hoods, roofs.
I was going to write
about how it’s not just more light
it’s different light
it’s not just 5:30 light at 6:30
it’s slanting lingering orange light
that reaches places it never did
last week
I was going to write that
but I didn’t
And this is not the thing
I was going to write
When I wake tomorrow
it will feel an hour earlier
than it will be, I think
and on Tuesday
when there is to be a blizzard
it will be well lit
into the evening
what the fuck is the deal
with dust
why is the world like this?
if you leave an object
in a room
it will, eventually
become filthy
god damn
as if cleaning up after
ourselves wasn’t hard enough
we have to clean up
after air
March, I owe you an apology
I have not seen much of you so far
I suppose I stepped out once or twice
when February thawed and warmed
but in March so far not so much of that
March does not know how
to care about such things
I apologize to myself
It’s hard to know from inside what is working
I’m worried that it won’t be that easy to tell from outside either
***
I don’t regret my choices today
I really don’t
(but that doesn’t let me off the hook:
Go out! Write poems! Expand!)