company
after-dinner poems longfellow and silverstein the hearts of friends, found
after-dinner poems longfellow and silverstein the hearts of friends, found
slowed by aching joints from hours and miles of travel she breathes through the pain so we can share a table with food and words and laughter
this is how I know I’m not doing it right, and haven’t been for all these years: i treasure the craft of a poem like a special occasion instead of like brushing my teeth.
you see the shape of someone’s cheeks, you hear the way a person shapes their vowels, or notice how they use their legs when walking, and you know some thing about what’s to come, and what they’ll say, and fine details about how they make their choices, until you stop, and notice nothing needs protecting, […]
my mother used to sleep on her kitchen floor when I would come to visit. she insisted. somehow, I can inhabit my son’s room when company calls. somehow.