by Katie Dean
my husband still treats weekends like weekends, even though there's no such thing anymore.
You can slow down time, I know now
the longest time of noticing,
of 900 steps a day.
and 0 stairs climbed.
It more and less quiet and more and less still.
But my allergy cough still whips
me into a panic
just as I'm about to fall asleep, a cough
and then hot blood rushing to my face
You have a longer life if you do less
Make your life as small as possible,
I still think
Make your life as small as possible and maybe
everything opens up
Flowers but also time
Scallions growing in the windowsill but also the
time it takes blackberries to rot,
Dust to collect but also your own parents
getting older, slowly and then all at once
Keep on keeping dill and cilantro on the table as
what if each thing had another use
If we cared for the soil like our own souls
If I know how long it takes for the cracks by
the bathtub to mold again do I also get more hours
before the sun sets, before my cats die, before
the house is leveled for condos and before I have seen
all the parts of my life happen backwards from the end
Posted on 05/29/2020
Copyright © 2020 Katie Dean
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Linda Fuller on 05/31/20 at 12:34 AM|
Your poem gives me chills.
|Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 05/31/20 at 02:22 PM|
Really a fine piece. I agree with Linda.
|Posted by Richard Vince on 06/06/20 at 11:45 AM|
Wow. So much in so few words. This reads like a life story compressed into a flashback (or a flash forward). Astounding.
|Posted by CM Bauer on 06/07/20 at 05:39 AM|
Nothing short of brilliant. Thank you for writing this.