
This Poem
Pudding Magazine #59
This poem is not about letting go.
It is not about climbing green mountains
or diving into the blue. It is
not about you. This poem
is about kneeling down
to pet a dying dog’s belly,
to comfort a loyal friend
in her final hour. It is
about celebrating life
and drinking the wine.
This poem is neither happy
nor secretly sad. It is not
indifferent or unchanging.
This poem is not. It is.