Twenty-nine
(I)
What if May is the new January?
How would you move forward if that were true?
Think of things you want and those things you don’t
And make a list or chart to catalog
Your life in this moment; don’t forget small
Stuff: the dogs, deep breathing, the way it feels
To put new records on the turntable,
Sitting outside with just the birds and no
Phone. Books again. Your brother is back and
You’ll take him to the farmers market to
Sample spirits and the pepper jelly.
You’ll get on your bicycle again, sure.
You don’t have to write any more poems.
These homing devices, they sleep in your bones.
(II)
There are things you could leave behind, you know:
You’ll be so glad to see those stink bugs go
As the weather warms. And whether you are
Sitting on a cushion or no, let that go.
The lawyer is writing up another
Letter on your family’s behalf. Though,
A large part of you wants to walk away.
Is that a better angel or devil?
You weigh your options like bags of potato,
But at the end of the day, trust; you know
What you’re doing, which is more than most
People and a lot of poets can say.
You’re listening as those inside bells ring.
That’s Roethke’s waking, a clarion thing.
michael jarmer 