Friday, May 7, 2010

Love Poem with Toast


Some of what we do, we do
to make things happen,
the alarm to wake us up, the coffee to perc,
the car to start.


The rest of what we do, we do
trying to keep something from doing something,
the skin from aging, the hoe from rusting,
the truth from getting out.


With yes and no like the poles of a battery
powering our passage through the days,
we move, as we call it, forward,
wanting to be wanted,
wanting not to lose the rain forest,
wanting the water to boil,
wanting to not have cancer,
wanting to get home by dark,
wanting not to run out of gas,


as each of us wants the other
watching at the end,
as both want not to leave the other alone,
as wanting to love beyond this meat and bone,
we gaze across breakfast and pretend.

we learn to hope through pain.

Miller Williams

2 comments:

  1. That is such a beautiful and hopeful - yet hopeless poem. We have control over nothing, but we continue to pretend.

    Is that hopeful? Or pointless?

    ReplyDelete
  2. I think it's called psychosis.

    ReplyDelete