A Poem I like

Mary Jo Bang

H is Here is a Song, Now Sing

The clouds above are speaking
But what they say doesn’t mean much.
So be it. It’s the end
Of a choir and now you’ve divided yourself
From yourself. Now you’re something simple.
You know there’s an answer for everything
But you can’t find one for nothing-to-do.
You wait and you wait.
You learned this from watching the oncoming
Drag behind it one gray burial train.
As in, “One stands alone.”
It’s permanence persisting.
Picture yourself in the now as one on an iceberg,
There since the beginning.
It’s all you know. The sequential
Where consequence follows an action.
Where the ear hears you singing: Nirvana
Over easy. An icicle traces a statement
In the mellowed snow: “It’s a terrible moment.”
The goblet mouth on the table speaks
To your thirst, saying, Longing, your longing, is infinite.