A POEM AMIDST 125 DAYS OF SILENCE

June 29, 2020 / John Grimmett

I distract myself,
hour upon hours,
day upon days,
— most times,

I am brought back to a summer night
when my head laid in your lap
and I looked up
and saw nothing but stars.

The entire world was before me,
and it was ending (even then)
all in the same cadential chord.

You hummed a little tune
I shall remember
until my last of days:

it ushers me to sleep,
these years later,
as I sit — side-saddle —
upon the throne of knowing and not knowing.

I look back and see I am the poet.
I look back and recognize the duty to report
the things I’ve seen.

And yet I let them go —
the tunes, the worlds —
(one by one)
words like shells into the ocean,

washing in and out,
inconstant as mornings and days and hours
and lives
and stars
and sleep

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