At 48, Some
At 48, I know some of what will likely or not be,
Have seen letters on the wall, considered words they might form,
But some of that ink’s fresh enough to smudge, budge …
I found a pond full of fish, today, in what I thought was a mirage,
Thought, all this time … because of yesterday’s chatter.
She’s had my ear too long, that Past.
Some of what she says: it’s just wrong.
Tomorrow called today, again, said I’ve had my wings on backwards.
“All this time, but fix them quick … we’ll be together soon.”
I’ve stayed here much too long, says Future,
Only some of whose calls I take.
But here’s a moment I know I can trust, see,
Like the strange mouths of these — SO MANY fish,
Opening/closing ’round the present I’ve made of old bread.
Something in me knows: they’ve been here all this time.
Something in me knows: I can catch some with my hands.
(Note: I turned 48 yesterday. It was not exactly a GREAT day, which you might not suspect from my FB post. Today is better. My husband suggested the words “strange mouths” (re: the fish that I wanted in the last stanza). He also recommended I rethink the original ending: “Some fish on our plates tonight would be good.” (“Maybe you don’t want to give a present to these fish and then eat them.”) But I do. Still, I agreed that something subtler may work better. Here’s how I wrapped it up while he made us lunch. Hope you like!)