Today's poem is by Lisa S. Steinman

Feeling Spring

Something to do with Job, without
the obvious trials—& of what?
Virtue. The good life. Old saws, done
in, formed like an old dog who's just

not interested. Another bone
picked, buried, thrown. The sea changes
what it's given, not for the best—
or for the best. Liquid assets:

broken glass, bones & mollusk shells.
Think of bottles, clams, insides gone
hollow. Or Job patient, waiting,
shaking a fist at the hazy

indifferent light, all of the sky
that is visible behind bits
of about-to or probably not.
Something to do with endings: refuse them.

Copyright © 2005 Lisa S. Steinman All rights reserved
from Quarterly West
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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