Sunday, April 6, 2014



what I read in the bath today at noon, alone in the house for hours, the first bath I've had in the house for over thirteen years:



My Life Was The Size Of My Life

My life was the size of my life.
Its rooms were room-sized.
its soul was the size of a soul.
In its background, mitochondria hummed,
above it sun, clouds, snow,
the transit of stars and planets.
It rode elevators, bullet trains,
various airplanes, a donkey.
It wore socks, shirts, its own ears and nose.
It ate, it slept, it opened
and closed its hands, its windows.
Others, I know, had lives larger.
Others, I know, had lives shorter.
The depth of lives, too, is different.
There were times my life and I made jokes together.
There were times we made bread.
Once, I grew moody and distant.
I told my life I would like some time,
I would like to try seeing others.
In a week, my empty suitcase and I returned.
I was hungry, then, and my life,
my life, too, was hungry, we could not keep
our hands off our clothes on our tongues from

Jane Hirshfield

7 comments:

  1. Ah, a bath alone. sounds heavenly - good for you!

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  2. "our hands off our clothes on our tongues from" ... is that really the last line?

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    1. Yes, Christy. I had to read it a couple of times to really think it was right and then it was so right.

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  3. That last line is so unsettling and exciting because it starts to push the tempo and then....ACK! Man, I wish I had found poetry through you years and years ago. I always hated it and shied away from reading it, but you always bring the best ones to light. Thank you.

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  4. You've inspired me to take a bath in our great claw foot tub. The one I haven't bathed in in years.

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