The TV could be on in the other room
You’d be on your laptop half interested in everything, nothing
Anything but me
Our daughter would be somewhere here; absently, greedily eating illusions
And I’d be dying quietly,
no differently than I am now…
Except that now I get to walk the catacomb like a priestess
reading aloud
with Jack Gilbert in my hands
Rumi
Wendell Berry
Annie Dillard
And think maybe I’ll start a little fire in the backyard tonight with the new moon
Sobriety Poet 