Ronald Baatz: Three Poems
While We Agreed
Finally, it stopped raining.
It had been a windy rain and
the wind and the rain kept
coming through the windows.
It seemed that the small table
where we ate was always wet.
I remember drizzly rain falling
on our eggs. For some reason,
it was especially noticeable on
the yolks. Eating eggs wet
from rain was a first for both of us.
But I had only one, whereas
she had eaten two, so we agreed
that she had eaten twice as much
rain as I had eaten. While we agreed
we could hear a cricket chirping.
Just like our eggs, this cricket
also must’ve been rained upon.
No doubt, in the tall boundless grass
sweeping towards a neighboring field
there were other crickets, silent ones
that were also wet. And these crickets,
they were just as silent as our eggs.
We agreed, it was hard to tell one silence
from the other.
After she left I admit I endured
one of the worst years of my life,
a year of suffering so pure, so
unexpected too since it was I who
had pushed hard for the breakup.
Solitude we like to think is easy
to slip back into but it’s not. It’s not
some old pair of slippers you can
pull out from under the bed. You’ll
quickly find it fraught with the worst
kind of loneliness, loneliness deadly
as a lunatic coming at you with a knife.
Even if you ward it off, without
fail it will come at you again
and again. Maybe when you
wake startled in the dark
you might discover loneliness
climbing in the window, knife
gleaming in moonlight.
Remembering old prayers
might help. But maybe not,
maybe your god is
lonely also. Or maybe your god is
coming through the window.
Three Small Poems
into another steamed dumpling
her toes separate
ah, not much different
than those committed in the garden
Extravagantly for their
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