April 2, 2024

First, a note: It’s long been my belief that poetry lives in places we don’t necessarily think to go looking. So sometimes I like to make it a point of doing just that, of looking in those places. This week’s poem is made up of fragments of text messages I’ve sent over the past two days. If I squint a little, I think it could make a kind of sense, in the way of personal tea leaves. I invite you to try this with your text messages. What messages are your messages giving you?

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wellspring

Today, it’s a long drive, a threshold, one of Odysseus’s labors. So thank you
for your calm, steady presence. Now, we have to do some catch-up work. 
My mother sends her relief and kudos. Oh gratitude. Oh holy marble.
We are all exhausted. I’m making ramen soup for the chauffeurs. That’s
the abbreviated version. Next steps are amazing, in part because of a sense
of hope. Do not concern yourself with themes. You are a person trying
to get some good things done. Remember those pictures we took
in that photo booth? And Easter? And Pennsylvania? Those five days? 
I know how important it is—the interminable wait, the conversation, 
the staying put. It makes a difference, that kind of love. It means the world.