Poem: The Almanac of Last Things

The Almanac of Last Things
by Lin­da Pastan

From the almanac of last things
I choose the spi­der lily
for the grace of its brief
blos­som, though I myself
fear brevity,

but I choose The Song of Songs
because the flesh
of those pomegranates
has survived
all the frost of dogma.

I choose Jan­u­ary with its chill
lessons of patience and despair–and
August, too sun-struck for lessons.
I choose a thim­ble­ful of red wine
to make my heart race,

then anoth­er to help me
sleep. From the almanac
of last things I choose you,
as I have done before.
And I choose evening

because the light clinging
to the window
is at its most reflective
just as it is ready
to go out. 

(From Car­ni­val Evening: New and Select­ed Poems)