I Write Poetry Now, Apparently

Last week, I wrote a poem that I don’t remember writing. I found it in the Notes app on my iPhone when I was looking up the very long list of podcast topics Beatrice and I frequently add to during our daily phone conversations. “That’s a great podcast topic!” we’ll say about something that’s making us laugh – usually something that is not, in fact, a great podcast topic.Anyway, apparently I wrote this poem. It was written at 11.30pm, which is two hours after my new bedtime, so I must have woken up, been unable to go back to sleep in the roasting hot toasted sandwich maker our bed has become (Brandin and I are the bread; Atlas is the cheese) and decided, this is the time for me to exercise my poetry skills. Or… lack thereof? You can be the judge.I Cannot Imagine JumpingI can imagine climbingthe stairs and gettingto the top and thinkingwhat next but I cannotimagine jumpingI can imagine what takes you thereI can imagine the hard and the hurt and the heartacheof it all(I don’t have to imagine becauseit is here and I have lived it; we have all lived it)and I can imagine the thinkingand the planningand the decidingbut I cannotimagine jumpingwhat happens in the seconds after you step off the edgeor the ledgeor whatever it is you step off to jumpso far down, all the way downwhat happens if in those secondsyou imagine turningback to your life and the hardand the heartof it allI can imagine turningbackbut I cannot imagine jumping This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit rosemarymaccabe.substack.com/subscribe