Not with the woman in blue lace
bending over the empty pitcher,
not with the Bouguereau painting
of mother and daughter lighting the prayer candle
beseeching their God.
Do not sink so that you cannot breathe
the particulars of a sunrise;
do not fall in love with the endings
a sunset can bring.

A master teacher from Juilliard warned,
Do not fall in love with the agony
and I thought back to my molasses life
where despair gets caught in the gunk,
where success and joy somehow hover
over me so I get just a taste
then am swallowed by the thickness, the old
coffee sludge that runs along my road.
I look at everyone who follows the ding
of the door bell: families, men, women, and I wonder
if my agony will allow room for someone else
to enter and shed light on me.

Do not fall in love with the darkness,
not with the expired milk
of a mother who doesn’t care.
Do not fall in love with the absence of things;
do not fall in love with this life you’ve
thus far lived.
Change it: fall in love with a feverless existence.
Do not discard yourself.
Do not become strangers with the ghost
that used to live your life.

04/04/2006

Posted on 04/04/2006
Copyright © 2024 Lisa Marie Brodsky