Poem: Some Clouds

Some Clouds
–Steve Kowit
from The Dumb­bell Nebula

Now that I’ve unplugged the phone
no one can reach me–
At least for this one afternoon
they will have to get by with­out my advice or opinion.
Now nobody else is going to call
& ask in a ten­ta­tive voice
if I haven’t yet heard that she’s dead,
that woman I once loved–
noth­ing but ash­es scat­tered over a city
that bare­ly itself any longer exists.
Yes, thank you, I’ve heard.
It had been too love­ly a morning.
That in itself should have warned me.
The sun lit up the tangerines
& the blaz­ing poinsettias
like so many candles.
For one after­noon they will have to for­give me.
I am busy watch­ing things hap­pen again
that hap­pened a long time ago,
as I lean back in Josephine’s lawn chair
under a sky of incred­i­ble blue,
broken–if that is the word for it–
by a few bil­low­ing clouds,
all white & unspeak­ably lovely,
drift­ing out of one noth­ing­ness into another.

Cyn is Rick's wife, Katie's Mom, and Esther & Oliver's Mémé. She's also a professional geek, avid reader, fledgling coder, enthusiastic gamer (TTRPGs), occasional singer, and devoted stitcher.
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