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.
