Refrain
       

I am learning that life is a pond. No.
1 am learning that life is not a pond, but has a pond's boundarles,
that shock is only a bareness: a long & empty warren.
I am quiet: I have nothing to say. The bride takes
her cues from her groom. The groom lies awake
in her absence. I feel what I understand:
the white Santa holding a present, the wreath of lights,
the red poinsettias on the fireplace, a group of people
beginning their night with martinis. It is Christmas
and we are all in mourning. Our mothers miss us, even
the ones who don't. Let's talk about your mother.
Let's talk about my comatose cousin, the one who drowned
in the pool. Let's talk about your uncle, who took you in the garage.
Let's talk about how we became adults. Let's talk
about your dead brother, the one with the beautiful hair.
Let's talk about my parents. Let's not. Let's talk
about my problems (how often we don't talk).
The group of people rise at once, as if tied together
with string. They are heading to karaoke in japantown—
silver bells, like knots of tin, lighting their way to the door.

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Copyright © 2013 Maggie Glover All rights reserved
from Ninth Letter
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission