Just Go On Living There

On the one hand, there’s the book
Of poems by many persons,
Of many backgrounds, many

Histories that you’re holding,
And all the words that we want
To join us, all the phrases

That dance, that we want to dance
With us, and you half indulge
Us in this, then send them off,

Since, you remind us, they have
Their own families, their own
Contexts. On the other hand,

We’re helpless in your context,
Small phrases, helpless and bored.
There’s the groaning of a plane,

And sooty birds on a twig
That chirp with pretty voices,
But so what? It’s like you’ve got

No memories anymore.
It’s like you never had them.
What choice phrases can we form

Of our time by this wayside
If you bring no perspective,
No human life to give us?