Someday we’ll look back,
I hope, and you won’t believe
how I used to sit and let
doubt and red wine
carve me out
from the inside
in measured small sips,
hardly maudlin,
just knowing how
how many laps
it takes to cross
the night.
Then I’ll say hope
is an albatross,
and hope that
you’ll see not just
Dickinson and duality–
harbinger of good
omens, and doom–
but also the sea
stretching on
for weeks
under the sweep
of still wings.
Do you know
they mate for life?
This, after all,
is a conversation
of conjecture–
and knowing
the long long
odds on peace,
I hope at least
to outlast the need
for hope. That is,
a hope for we.
OPTIONAL POETRY 
this is nicely woven together, like those huge ropes that used to hold ships to the quay, fraying on close inspection
I’m only JUST NOW discovering Emily Dickinson – I got her Complete Works for Christmas and am starting from the beginning
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Thank you– I’d like to try and rediscover Dickinson. So many words of hers come to mind after being memorized rote in school. Please let me know of any poems you find particularly striking!
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This is beautiful. ❤️
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Thank you, Rachel!
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Beautiful.
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Thanks, Steve!
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Yep, it’s a beautiful poem, C.
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Thank you, Jeff
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very nice!
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Thanks, Alex!
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