I Can’t Do Anything About It, But I Keep Trying

by Kevin Brown

You hear the words I
never said,
would never say,
repeat them to me
day after day to make sure
my conscience gets the guilt
your misinterpretation mandates.

You know the lack of hope
the letter we never received
contains: the catastrophe
around the corner
we can never avert
if it never arrives.

And you see what I’m missing:
the comment that could have
come, the forgotten favor,
the vase still sitting in
the cabinet, empty.

You complain about the coat
I patched, not knowing
it can still keep us warm,
muttered about the song
sung off-key, ignored
the world that was singing at all,
one note, then another,
like all of life.