July 23, 2024

A note: I created this poem out of text messages I either received or sent in the last week.

the pond

Talk about putting myself out there on the longest, 
slenderest limb. But I need to make this place home, 
to be with sadness, or whatever people call it. 
Yesterday, I biked to town and got a smoothie. 
What I mean to say is I’m trying to hold up my end 
of the world in my own special way. There are other 
directions to follow than what the map says. 
We’re almost there, staring at the movement of trees, or leaning 
into the softness of each other, or listening to the pond 
after everyone else has gone to sleep.