The rickety kitchen table
I’m sitting writing this at
could undoubtedly have been better made
as can probably be said about the poem
and about lots of other things
in this battered world
that just manages to function
as long as man is patched up with woman
reason with belief
and bad dreams with office work.
And perhaps today
where it poured down from morning to evening
and I received your sodden letter
could have been a trifle better.
But today wasn’t ‘perhaps’
it was there
and then it was gone.
That’s why today was the best one.
To see the original and hear the poet read it, go to here
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