Monday, April 18
BOOK RATE
It's getting harder
to live without
faith, or you,
or whatever
we choose to call
what calls
to us in the quiet.
The cat that sleeps
on my mailbox, yawning.
The sky dark
at noon & soon
snow salting the ground.
Days almost zero.
What this world is
isn't enough
& that's enough—
or must be.
Steady flurries.
I want to enter the earth
face first.
Hurry—
(Kevin Young)