
Brick, chimney flame,
chicken chili and steam.
Fogged glasses. My ballcap.
*
His couch cushions, leather.
1 ladle, 2 spoons. 2 dogs, 1 bowl
to drink from. Enough comfortable
*
seats around the fireplace, which
heats the whole house. “Handsome,”
the man purrs with my legs in his lap.
*
“There,” the man points to the corner,
“That’s where it will go.” We can imagine.
The phone rings and the man answers
*
because it is important to answer the phone.
There are many important things — kinglets
chirping in the Douglas firs;
*
stones collected on the San Juans; a photograph
of him young with his husband. Don’t worry,
I’ll never be the bread or the knife.
*
He won’t be either. A daybed in the window?
No, he will be an important thing.
My pine-scented air.
I went on an adventure and wrote a poem for my friend. Thankful to live my wonderful life! Returning again and again to writing reminds me of what’s important, helps me clarify and prioritize some things and move forward from others. Grateful!
My friendship pome in the last slide is after Billy Collins’s love poem Litany. How strange to point at people and think about what they mean to you! But sometimes they point back and we agree to be important to each other. What a life.
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