Hey.
I was saying to my friend, Karen Brennan,
today that I feel bad because I never think of anything to say
in between poems.
And when I say things, they're stupid.
So I try not to say anything much.
Just, kind of, stall.
This is called "The Life You Save."
After the pine fields, there's the marsh--
you can see it from here.
And after that?
History ending-- myth, as it starts to stir.
And after that?
After that, just the turning back again.
Nothing you won't know already--
the pinefield, the marsh.
And the reeds too?
The reeds that grow there?
Yes, and the reeds that grow there--
beautiful, invasive, they jostle in the smallest wind.
Soon it will be as if nothing had ever happened.