Dispatch from the Future
Melville House is running four poems from my book today on the blog, including this one, which seems appropriate since I just started reading Lidia Yuknavitch’s The Chronology of Water.
DISPATCH FROM THE FUTURE
In the future, we are tender.
We temper our irreverence
It’s, like, slightly wonderful.
We pronounce magic
like we’re from Michigan,
and all our mothers continue
mothering, like harbors,
There’s a sense of indeterminacy
with mothering and we take
turns standing like breakwaters.
Life is dangerous, wild, and yet
we welcome it.
We’re in therapy.
It’s called water.
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