Category: poems

Fail Safe

As Robert Frost wrote, a poem “begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a

Where the house is cold and empty and the garden’s overgrown,
They are there.
Where the letters lie

Why did you leave me?
We had grown tired together. Don’t you remember?
We’d grown tired together, were

The odds of existence
of being precisely who you are
are slim

In fact, the odds are almost

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you

Dear T.,

1.
Dear self: today you turn thirty-one. Do you feel that? Do you feel your bones adjusting