By Natasha Trethewey
We mourn the broken things, chair legs
wrenched from their seats, chipped plates,
the threadbare clothes. We work the magic
of glue, drive the nails, mend the holes.
We save what we can, melt small pieces
of soap, gather fallen pecans, keep neck bones
for soup. Beating rugs against the house,
we watch dust, lit like stars, spreading
across the yard. Late afternoon, we draw
the blinds to cool the rooms, drive the bugs
out. My mother irons, singing, lost in reverie.
I mark the pages of a mail-order catalog,
listen for passing cars. All day we watch
for the mail, some news from a distant place.
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Monday was overcast and not too hot, which was very nice. Not much that was exciting happened apart from some good speeches at the Democratic Convention and bunnies not social distancing from us when we were out walking (no rainbow today but also thankfully no downpour). We checked in on the Orioles and Nationals (the former getting our hopes up for no good reason in the end) and the first episode of Dead Pixels, which was quite funny and I hope there are more women gamers as it goes on.
Oh, and we watched the first episode of Lovecraft Country, which is excellent, and apparently I have become desensitized to violence because while I still can't watch the gratuitous rapiness of Game of Thrones or The Borgias, I am completely fine with racist cops being eaten alive by monstrous creatures. I thought I needed to be spoiled in advance for the violence, but next week I'll watch when it airs. Because of all the rain, we saw lots of mushrooms in addition to the bunnies:
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