Poem for my Friend in the Time of Pandemics

These are my gifts,
my offerings,
little mismatched shoes
highway slush hitting the tire
the mile marker
and gone is heavenly
when there is a gone to go to

see, these are my hands
restless birds
wingless gagglers
mid travel minutiae
the way the weary light of the gas station
bends the sound of what the hills are trying to say in two
knee cap branches
lost and found berry bones

these are my eyes
they look at the mess on the floor
and whisper ‘god is in this moment’
then unfurl like night
like father / like daughter
like dusk in the soup
and the mother who made thee
mended dolls by the river

here is where
we wash out
bend in
it can be found
again
what’s lost
this little offering
behind the dangling armed elder bush
saying; a heart that’s been broken
knows where the road bends
and why you must always
always
bend with it.

James Diaz is the author of This Someone I Call Stranger (Indolent Books, 2018) as well as the founding editor of Anti-Heroin Chic. Their poems have appeared in Yes, Poetry, Gone Lawn, The Collidescope and Thimble Literary Magazine. They live by the simple but true motto that “feelings matter” every shape and size of feeling. They believe that every small act of kindness makes an often unseen but significant difference in someone’s life and hope that their poems are a small piece of that.

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1 Response to Poem for my Friend in the Time of Pandemics

  1. L.K. Latham says:

    Seems like bending is key to surviving these days.

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