69: On Days When We Both Travel

February 28, 2019 · 5:00
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On Days When We Both Travel
by Brenda Hillman

     Everything is so stressful. Was it
always like this? Air full of
      bitter flecks from the fires; friends
in despair over violence & money;
for many, a feeling of being
      unhinged, or if not unhinged, one
screw taken out of the door.
             You got up & left before
dawn, taking a frayed black bag;
     i left soon after that, afraid,
going the opposite way. Daily this
  curtain between death & life then

K’s baby is born just north
    of here. Now the 4-part
           call of the crow snags gravity
from stars that crashed millions of
  years back~~ the 4 floats in
    my blood like a broken chair
             in a flood. On the plane
      i read the work of friends
on earth: abstract, intimate, grounded or
rough, difficult, delved, simple or winged,  
    sometimes poetry can’t do enough or
sometimes poetry can do enough—

“On Days When We Both Travel,” by Brenda Hillman. Copyright © 2019 by Brenda Hillman. Used by permission of the poet.