”You do not have to be good,
Only to let the wild animal of your body love what it loves.” -Mary Oliver
Listen to your body,
The body knows.
The grey purple crags
In the distance
Topped by golden sun
And white cliff faces
Listen to your cries.
Sentinel holds vigil by
Your chair.
Your black furry coat
laying across your lap
And favorite grey sweater
(the one with holes in it
and the A&F logo that you
picked from the trash when
those two college boys were moving out) wraps you in a
kind of coziness that you
didn't know you were seeking.
Bob Marley sings on the radio,
”No woman, no cry.”
I always thought he meant
”I don't need no woman;
I won't cry,”
But maybe its not an independence anthem?
Maybe its a song about
Compassion?
Is he saying, ”No, woman,
Don't cry?”
Perfect orange on the table next to me from my neighbors'
tree signifying springtime in
Phoenix.
I have been called
A Phoenix by more than one
person lately,
Not insignificantly.
Not least
of whom, my Mr. B.
I still love him, you know. Will always.
My counselor Barbara says you can love someone
With all your heart and
That still doesn't mean
That you are supposed
to be
With them
