69: On Days When We Both Travel

69: On Days When We Both Travel

69: On Days When We Both Travel

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.

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