Poem: The Sequel

As promised, more poetry from Jim Moore despite my aching muscles. One thing I enjoy about Mr. Moore is his themes; at least in Lightning At Dinner, he ruminates very strongly about life and death, and the presence of the divine in the world around us.  Although I’m an agnostic, I consider myself fairly spiritual.  It’s no surprise I was drawn to his work. Since the poem I wanted to share is short, I decided to just post two, a dyad about love.

It Is Not the Fact That I Will Die That I Mind

but that no one will love as I did
the oak tree out my boyhood window,
the mother who set herself
so stubbornly against life,
the sister with her serious frown
and her wish for someone at her side,
the father with his dreamy gaze
and his left hand idly buried
in the fur of his dog.
And the dog herself,
that mournful look and huge appetite,
her need for absolute stillness
in the presence of a bird.
I know how each of them looks
when asleep. And I know how it feels
to fall asleep among them.
No one knows that but me,
no one knows how to love the way I do.

When the Dog Is Sick

She eats white rice,
white rice only.
Little Buddha with your curved smile
of a tail, tell me
what life is like
for those who love
without condition or restraint.