Weighing the Difference
with a line from Sappho, translated by William Logan
Anna interprets my dreams as the fear of botching
a chance at heaven. I would like to believe in
the plurals of things, the hour shored up against a bridge,
its bright underbelly furring against my cheekbones.
Everything here is all shutter and no latch.
We’re a bunch of wackos who cry before our birthdays
so the morning startles in its fullness. Sappho, from the Greek,
could haul up a bucket of spring water
from that reeking sewer of her life.
Seeing that my life is not so much sewer as the lake
we swim in, with its fair share of algae and silt blooms,
the water should be clean enough, if not to drink,
then to wash away the day’s worth of dirt.