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Living In Poetry

I remember most
Your aimless smile
How you listened intently
At the odds and ends
Of my written words
You said you didn't want to die

On a white piece of paper
Across the top
I wrote the beginning of a poem
I told you
I was going to keep you here
Alive

You hated poetry
But my words, you loved
You said I was bold, blunt
That I could conquer
Whatever it is
Written on the page

You took to trusting my pen
Mistaking it for the good old days

My words held you living
Breathing, on white paper
I stopped
Only to listen to you
Or, at the end of a period
Or, when something strange
Was about to happen
It was unmistakably my worst fault
For my racing, frantic, mind
Paused too long

In remembering that you
Didn't want to die
I told you in no uncertain terms
That I would keep you safe
On this white sheet of paper
And you smiled a weak smile
Rolled your eyes
And said, we'd leave it to fate

Since that's not what I wanted for you
I said I would revise my words
Let them sleep here overnight
And tomorrow
I would put them into context
Take the poetry out of them
Find another way
To keep you breathing

But the next day
When I returned
Eager and ready to start over
To revise all my words
Bold and blunt
You were already gone

On the white sheet of paper
Across what I had written
You had scribbled
"I didn't want to die
But it sure beats living in poetry"

Learn more about this author, Nancy Browne.
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