A Rejection and Other Saturday Thoughts

I finally got rejected by the New Yorker! Why “finally”? So I can stop wondering about it. I was involved with the translation of a (very dry) philosophy book, in which the philosopher mentioned that there’s a sense of relief when a dropped glass shatters, because you’re no longer worried about catching it. Here’s a poem about a different sort of ending.

Please, Mom

Carry me
Before I am born
Then when I'm too tired to walk
And
Metaphorically, when I'm too ignorant
To forge through life
Unassisted

Later

Bury me
Because I know you'll do a good job
And you give the best eulogies
And I could never face your corpse
Without asking it for advice

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