poem

 A Living Heat

It hasn’t been a mistake, all this living

Isolated acts, sure, there are a few I’d like to have back

But life itself, anyone’s life, is never in error

Regret comes to seem more like a luxury

Affliction of the young and unencumbered 

How could I dishonor my years

By pining for anything else?

You can’t put back the snow

Just be the living heat

Melting the ice at the edge of you

12/11/23