Friday, January 20, 2012

a porch poem

This body is a porch, that's all
I know this, but I don't know
what to do about it.
-Naomi Shihab Nye

What could naming be besides a screen stuck in front?
most days it's the only thing that's left in there,
sitting in the bottom of a big empty bag.
These words are a porch, that's all
I know this but I don't know what to do about it.

It's for leaning in toward the world, I've got that down.
with faith towards collapse, because I know it can happen.
I can see it, this fusing- in that way that already feels real.
But I look up and know
these words are a porch, that's all
I know this but I don't know what to do about it.

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