Tuesday, February 2, 2016

wish upon a star

This was the Writer's Almanac offering today~love when one stumbles upon something articulated well.

What Love Cannot Do

It cannot save itself when it expires
like a tire’s slow leak. It cannot bring back
the greediness of youth
                                           mouth on mouth,
                                           skin on skin, that gnawing,
                                           that longing you carried
until the next time
and then there is no next time.
You never see it coming but always see it leaving.
It waits by the door, bags packed,
full of stones from your life.
                                           What it can do is mark
the distance between Point A and Point B,
which feels like a galaxy,
                                           every star you ever wished upon
                                           imploding before your eyes.

"What Love Cannot Do" by January Gill O'Neil from Misery Islands. © Cavan Kerry Press, 2014.


  1. You never see it coming...
    That's something to hang onto, really. It will continue to wallop you upside the head. That's all we can hope for; continued unexpectedness in life and love.

    I'm not sure if this is just grim or beautifully grim, but I like.

  2. I read "life" instead of "love" for some reason. Probably because I heard this evening an interview regarding the new book "When Breath Becomes Air" by Paul Kalanithi.

    There was something about the point not being to avoid suffering, but to imbue meaning. It felt a lot like this poem, somehow.

  3. I love when one reads something that one didn't even know needed saying.

    Don't think it's grim~just honest.

  4. Both words seem interchangeable!