… wild patience.

By J. K. McDowell

March 2012

 

We are never the person they claim.  Our rope is

Twisted tight.  Some special knife work is in order.

There are strands here that do not belong.

 

Over coffee Vallejo elucidates how

In this hyper-wired-world, that the sorrows of

December and January bleed into March.

 

One day the river considers, no I will not

Cross that line.  I will not flow to the ocean.

Do you know the flood waters that you have caused?

 

I know you feel this in your chest, the air seems thin.

In the Other World there is a tightening tourniquet.

Yes, it is personal, we are being saved.

 

I will never forget that you asked me to

Write you a poem.   Maybe today that work will

Be finished.  I still have some of your ashes.

 

The pecans are blooming Jim.  Their flowers long for

Sun and rain and that special something that will move

Them on their path.  Know truly this wild patience.

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