Poem by the Indomitable Joan Logghe

Written for 100 Thousand Poets for Change reading at Ethyl the Whale

Our Lady of Sorrows Fiesta: Small Things

Even though the world is ending
I am fighting off frown lines
and even though there is no hope
I named my daughter Esperanza
and even though I hear the science
and the Artic ice calving and pipelines and penguins,

I teach poetry, the least useful most important thing
and even though I do not carry special knowledge,
I think of Pittsburgh, a man carrying THE END IS NEAR
sign in 1963 on Fifth Avenue, a small thing
as I walk to my ballroom dance class

and even though, I wipe carefully the counter
in case Buddha or the Messiah may arrive,
and with a jar liberate the wasps and spiders
so they might live long and prosper, small things
and though there is storm surge
I put on jewelry, small things

And if it were happening to my house,
if my child were swept away, if then, what
and always I dislike people saying
“That is a First World problem,” because usually it is
and though the earth is swallowing its children,
I gave birth three times, and though my grandchildren’s

have five hearts, I tilt my head so my double chin
won’t show on FaceTime, and though we are dying
of unnatural causes, I laugh, as the comedians are prophets
and I’m playing those Leonard Cohen songs of a Saturday,
even though I take a petrol Sabbath, small things
and let the world come to me bearing its beauty.
I walk the razor’s edge between dark and light
the beauty way. Life on the narrow edge
we go on living in the even so.
September 2019

Photo by Elizabeth Jacobson

This entry was posted in Uncategorized by Miriam Sagan. Bookmark the permalink.

About Miriam Sagan

I'm blogging about poetry, land art, haiku, women artists, road trips, and Baba Yaga at Miriam's Well (https://miriamswell.wordpress.com). The well is ALWAYS looking to publish poetry on our themes, sudden fiction, and guest bloggers and musers.

4 thoughts on “Poem by the Indomitable Joan Logghe

  1. Brava to Joan for all the small things she reminds us of in the face of deluges. And for all our poetry, “the least useful most important thing.”

  2. Today, the Monday after we lost one of our students here at Los Alamos High — a tenth grader — suddenly — blood clot in her lungs. Today, I see this poem. I could not attend or participate in the wonderful reading at the whale. I was there in spirit and in poetry. Thank you, Joan, for this poem.

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