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Ada Limón

The Carrying

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    andreae183compartió una citahace 4 meses
    He said we don’t believe in the afterlife. I stopped him and said, I don’t believe in God, but I do have some very interesting thoughts concerning ghosts.
    andreae183compartió una citahace 4 meses
    My memoir could be called I Thought I Wanted a Baby but All I Got Was Your Dead Ex-Girlfriend’s Two Old Cats.
    andreae183compartió una citahace 4 meses
    Would I be more patient with a child? Would I love the smallness
    of a life more than the gone-ness of the mind? Yes.
    andreae183compartió una citahace 4 meses
    Funny thing about grief, its hold
    is so bright and determined like a flame,
    like something almost worth living for.
    andreae183compartió una citahace 4 meses
    You ever think you could cry so hard
    that there’d be nothing left in you, like
    how the wind shakes a tree in a storm
    until every part of it is run through with
    wind?
    andreae183compartió una citahace 4 meses
    Time does that. The arrow we ride into the now,
    then into the future, does not pull out of the skin
    backward. Or does it?
    andreae183compartió una citahace 4 meses
    The past is happening.
    andreae183compartió una citahace 4 meses
    the one who wants to love you, but often
    isn’t good at even that, the one who
    doesn’t want to be diminished
    by how much she wants to be yours.
    andreae183compartió una citahace 4 meses
    Wife, why does it
    sound like a job?
    andreae183compartió una citahace 4 meses
    Creeley says, The plan is the body. What if he’s wrong?
    I am always in too many worlds, sand sifting through my hands,
    another me speeding through the air, another me waving
    from a train window watching you
    waving from a train window watching me
    andreae183compartió una citahace 4 meses
    Imagine the body free of its anchors,
    the free-swimming,
    a locomotion propelling us, pulse by pulse,
    but here I am: the slow caboose of clumsy effort.
    andreae183compartió una citahace 4 meses
    I can’t stop
    putting plants in the ground. There’s a hunger in me,
    a need to watch something grow.
    andreae183compartió una citahace 4 meses
    I know
    you don’t always understand,
    but let me point to the first
    wet drops landing on the stones,
    the noise like fingers drumming
    the skin. I can’t help it. I will
    never get over making everything
    such a big deal.
    andreae183compartió una citahace 4 meses
    These are the last three things
    that happened. Not in the universe,
    but here, in the basin of my mind,
    where I’m always making a list
    for you, recording the day’s minor
    urchins
    andreae183compartió una citahace 4 meses
    that perhaps the only thing I can make
    is love and art. I want to tell him that’s enough. Isn’t it? Isn’t love
    that doesn’t result in a seed, a needy body, another suckling animal,
    still love? Isn’t that supernatural? Screw your god.
    andreae183compartió una citahace 4 meses
    I like being at this bar with a man I admire
    but don’t love, don’t need to fleece for affection. It makes
    me feel all grown up, like I should get a good-job chip too.
    andreae183compartió una citahace 4 meses
    Patient, plodding, a green skin
    growing over whatever winter did to us, a return
    to the strange idea of continuous living despite
    the mess of us, the hurt, the empty. Fine then,
    I’ll take it, the tree seems to say, a new slick leaf
    unfurling like a fist, I’ll take it all.
    andreae183compartió una citahace 4 meses
    I give names to everything now because it makes
    me feel useful.
    andreae183compartió una citahace 4 meses
    Will you tell us the stories that make
    us uncomfortable, but not complicit?
    andreae183compartió una citahace 4 meses
    I live my life half afraid, and half shouting
    at the trains when they thunder by.
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