for Marilyn

On the brink, over the edge,
between breaths, heartbeats, tears,

underneath the weight of it all,
without what is needed, wanted,

you find yourself going round,
not necessarily in confusion,

but moving toward an unnameable
something, though you may not be able

to discern what—opposite of where you
thought you were, or should, or

wish to be. But if you look beneath,
beside, beyond—despite the difficulty

of the moment—something you’ve
long attracted crouches near.

Call it to you, even if you don’t
recall its name. It will come

carrying a gift in its teeth,
a generosity of spirit that you

have long offered to others, brought
back and dropped at your feet,

a little drooly, perhaps, but a
kindness nonetheless. Pick it up.

Pat the one who delivered it, who
looks at you now with adoring eyes.

Say yes.