each square foot of home has a different temperature incense jasmine sweat and rice the train the neighbor practicing the trumpet the lingering tang of dinner the contrast between wood and painted plaster stillness longing safety scheming having-sensed and having-yet-to-sense the luxury to notice
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, […]