Trust is when a friend sends a poem unchaperoned
in the mail. When my brother sends me coffee beans
that fell on the street
when he was hit
by a truck;
the bag still plastered
with ground beef
and onions.
It is my Mom
telling me nothing in particular,
or something she told me before,
because I won't mind.
It is a phone call, not a text.
It is a text, not silence.
It is silence, not piffle
just to keep up the talk.
Trust is saying, "God" when there are no words to follow:
nothing to ask, no reproach,
no relief, no clarity.
Only the certainty
that I must look
in the right direction.
in the mail. When my brother sends me coffee beans
that fell on the street
when he was hit
by a truck;
the bag still plastered
with ground beef
and onions.
It is my Mom
telling me nothing in particular,
or something she told me before,
because I won't mind.
It is a phone call, not a text.
It is a text, not silence.
It is silence, not piffle
just to keep up the talk.
Trust is saying, "God" when there are no words to follow:
nothing to ask, no reproach,
no relief, no clarity.
Only the certainty
that I must look
in the right direction.
