Friday, May 9th, 2014<\/p>\n
This is another of my favorite poems, \u201cWhat the Living Do.\u201d Marie Howe wrote it after the death of her brother John from AIDS. It captures the experience of the one who is left behind, the everydayness of life, the small moments, the yearning, the slog. And the cherishing.<\/p>\n
What the Living Do<\/strong> Johnny, the kitchen sink has been clogged for days, some utensil probably fell down there. waiting for the plumber I still haven’t called. This is the everyday we spoke of. the open living-room windows because the heat’s on too high in here and I can’t turn it off. I’ve been thinking: This is what the living do. And yesterday, hurrying along those wobbly bricks I thought it again, and again later, when buying a hairbrush: This is it. What you finally gave up. We want the spring to come and the winter to pass. We want But there are moments, walking, when I catch a glimpse of myself in the window glass, for my own blowing hair, chapped face, and unbuttoned coat that I’m speechless: April 1994<\/p>\n You can hear Marie Howe read the poem and talk about her brother and the rest of her large \u201cCatholic lefty\u201d family in her 2011 interview with Terri Gross. She reads the poem towards the beginning of the interview: ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Friday, May 9th, 2014 This is another of my favorite poems, \u201cWhat the Living Do.\u201d Marie Howe wrote it after the death of her brother John from AIDS. It captures the experience of the one who is left behind, the … Continue reading
\nMarie Howe<\/p>\n
\nAnd the Drano won’t work but smells dangerous, and the crusty dishes have piled up<\/p>\n
\nIt’s winter again: the sky’s a deep, headstrong blue, and the sunlight pours through<\/p>\n
\nFor weeks now, driving, or dropping a bag of groceries in the street, the bag breaking,<\/p>\n
\nin the Cambridge sidewalk, spilling my coffee down my wrist and sleeve,<\/p>\n
\nParking. Slamming the car door shut in the cold. What you called that yearning.<\/p>\n
\nwhoever to call or not call, a letter, a kiss–we want more and more and then more of it.<\/p>\n
\nsay, the window of the corner video store, and I’m gripped by a cherishing so deep<\/p>\n
\nI am living. I remember you.<\/p>\n
\nhttp:\/\/www.npr.org\/2011\/10\/20\/141502211\/poet-marie-howe-on-what-the-living-do-after-loss<\/a><\/p>\n
\nMary-Catherine Harrison, Ph.D.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"