Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Poem for Judge

I received this poem from the Writer's Almanac, as always, and it made me stop for a moment. I adore poetry, but I adore good poetry. This poem reminds me of Judge and myself, our preoccupation with mortality and our love for each other. It also reminded me of Don Delillo's White Noise, a book which I liked but didn't like, too cold for my Southern tastes, but right on as far as our fear of death goes. But enough editorializing - here's Moreau's "Borrowed Time."
Poem: "Borrowed Time" by David Moreau from Sex, Death and Baseball © Moon Pie Press, 2004. Reprinted with permission. Borrowed Time

I will not die tonight
I will lie in bed with
my wife beside me,
curled on the right
like an animal burrowing.
I will fit myself against her
and we will keep each other warm.

I will not die tonight.
My son who is seven
will not slide beneath the ice
like the boy on the news.
The divers will not have to look
for him in cold water.
He will call, "Daddy, can I get up now?"
in the morning.

I will not die tonight.
I will balance the checkbook,
wash up the dishes
and sit in front of the TV
drinking one beer.

For the moment I hold a winning ticket.
It's my turn to buy cold cuts
at the grocery store.
I fill my basket carefully.

For like the rain that comes now
to the roof and slides down the gutter
I am headed to the earth.
And like the others, all the lost
and all the lovers, I will follow
an old path not marked on any map.

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