Right to Life
I can’t thank you enough for not having had me.
Not that life doesn’t have its moments, e.g., last week
that kite surfer made you think
how can there be any suffering in the life of someone who can turn like that on a wave
and head back out over and over
sometimes one-armed holding on
but life in general is full of surprises
you could do without. Your heart could be broken
your country invaded
life savings vanish
so after all that
now you’re broke. Dodging bullets,
getting hit, losing friends … They say no one’s life can be ruined
everyone’s got the perfect circumstances for their own particular journey blah blah
but we all know I would have ruined yours.
No Ph.D., no great job, no context outside your tortured little family;
resentment;
guilt. Yes, you would have loved me beyond imagining,
thank you very much; but, please …
you … then? And him? Give me a break.
Of course I would have had the gene for alcoholism
so prevalent in what would have been my father’s family
(speaking of him)
which you weren’t great at dealing with on your own behalf,
now, were you?
and wouldn’t have been on mine.
Look, it isn’t lonely here
any more than an idea is lonely
before it shows up (or not) in your mind. You know that feeling
when it half-exists? That’s the beauty of
The Void. You’ve done a great job, Linda.
I’m saving you a place.
Now you’re the mother I want.
* * * * *
Burying Jews Since 1973
“Burying Jews since 1973” –
Mim’s great joke on the venerable Mt. Auburn Cemetery
after Central Park (in my opinion)
Frederick Law Olmsted’s greatest work. Never mind Jews,
what about women? Plenty here but
“His Wife” say many smaller markers near some man’s handsome grave
even ”His Beautiful Wife.” Okay, okay
it’s May
let’s lighten up.
Here’s crabapples crammed with blossoms down each branch
and twig
a few ducks on the pond
I climb the hill. On a beach chair among bushes
a man is leaning forward
talking keenly
to his shrink! I realize
when I’m close enough to get the gist.
Good spot! O my god,
these elephant-footed beech trees
don’t tell me they’re not Beings
you can see from all the accommodations in their trunks have made
to life’s vicissitudes
they’ve seen it all. At the hilltop
two same-sized young men
one doing most of the talking
the other with a thick straight brown-gold mop he’s understandably
grown long. I imagine going up and saying
do you realize some day
you’ll go bald? Which he won’t
necessarily
of course
later I see them down the hill
quite small still talking away
they seem like friends, not a couple
one in orange shorts. Pink cherry blossoms drifting
yellow daffs
sudden abundance, as always,
after the interminable winter. About which I feel what?
Grief and greed
for all the passing beauty?
mixed with joy.