One corner of the lattice is chewed
through. Some nocturnal animal, trying
to force its way beneath the deck where
it's cooler than anywhere on the surface.
I call our handyman to measure the lengths
between the wooden supports, so he
can repair the broken slats and add a gate.
In the afternoon, we find the deck umbrella
fallen on its side. No one heard the wind
making any kind of incursion. And yet.
Rilke said, What fights with us is so great.
I think he meant overwhelming, more than
wonderful. Is anything difficult in life, then,
an Angel? Are we supposed to give ourselves up
just like that, to the more powerful force
instead of working in opposition to it?
I want to win, even sometimes,
over some greater being. To bring all
my fight into that arena which is always
sold to me as worthy. To feel extraordinary
even if not eternal, in that one moment
deemed most likely impossible, glimpse
a tiny door that opens to the other side.
Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.
