By Joanna Klink
And I carried to that emptiness
between us the birds
that had been calling out
all night. I carried an old
bicycle, a warm meal,
some time to talk.
I would have brought
them to you sooner
but was afraid your own
hopelessness would keep you
crouched there. If you spring up,
let it not be against me
but like a weed or a
fountain. I grant you
the hard spine of your
childhood. I grant you
the frowning arc of this morning.
If I could I would grant you
a bright throat and even
brighter eyes, this whole hill
of olive trees, its
calmness of purpose.
Let me not forget
ever what I owe you.
I have loved the love
you felt for those gardens
and I would grant you
the always steadying
presence of seeds.
I bring to that trouble
between us a bell that might
blur into air. I bring the woods
and a sense of what lives there.
Like you, I turn to sunlight for
answers. Like you, I am
not sure where it has gone.
--------
I stayed up late watching the Ravens pull off a critical win on Monday Night Football so Tuesday has been kind of a fuzzy blur, though that may also be because it was a very gray, gloomy day -- I will be so happy in three days when we pass the solstice and the light starts to come back. My day involved mostly unexciting things anyway like work and folding laundry. While doing the latter, I finally watched The Fountain DVD extras, which are fascinating particularly now that we've heard about Aronofsky's conflict with the studio over the final cut of Noah; there's a section about the plans to film in Australia with a different cast and more elaborate sets, though dropout Brad Pitt's name is never mentioned. But speaking of Hugh Jackman performances, this must be the nadir.
Adam is going on Tuesday to an indoor track meet to cheer on his friends even though he can't run in it, so I picked him up after practice today, plus I ran out to CVS, which were my only ventures out in the cold. We watched How Sherlock Changed the World, which was enjoyable if somewhat dragged out (there were some repetitive points and even some repetitive clips, and I was sorry to see no RDJ even though forensics aren't really emphasized in the movies). I only became aware tonight of the explosions of wank in Sherlock fandom -- spoilers! fan fiction writer shaming! actor rape jokes! -- which makes me really glad to have stayed far afield. Here is a crazy kitten we watched attacking a rope at South Mountain Creamery on Sunday:
No comments:
Post a Comment