Bonnie Emerick

Today is no different.

Every day, we wake to the puppy’s accident.

Every day, we carry on and carry on
and carry on.

Friends and family and loved ones—
we aren’t thoroughly beat or beaten.

Our time has been our time—it is
building—as it has been

into the somethingness of
anything, the nothingness of

The light outside the window is
only an object of looking.

We’d be satisfied with that—
            but, then, we’d have to say we were—
            we are

The tree did not say
            that was so.
The newscaster did not say
            that was so.

The presidential candidate blinked
            into a lie and

            we believed him.

            (It’s always a him.)
            (We are always believing.)
            (And then asking ourselves why.)
            (And then telling ourselves why.)

The explanation seems to true

            that it must be.

where are we when we are no longer enough?

in our memories
childhood—home, garden—
where we were
enough in the scene under
the grapefruit tree

dad is buying pounds of shrimp
and cooking it in the Georgia kitchen

The day before the election.

This right here—watch
                                    for this—.

Did anything change?

She asks,

“How can I look forward in this? How
can I have any true hope—the kind
that bleeds into the air and mixes with
oxygen to change the color of

what’s inside—when it meets the outside—

that kind of hope. How can I
have it?”

we all are trying

all the time to be happy
all the time to improve our situation
all the time to see who loves us back
all the time not to tantrum
all the time to be gentle
all the time to respect

                        to take what is given
                        to give more than
                        what is taken

we all are trying
                        all the time

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