Author: Elizabeth Maynard

I have wasted so much life waiting
for endings and beginnings
and every story that went astray
from what I imagined

You are kind in your compliments
If you pressed me
I, too, might admit to liking
the sound of my own smooth voice

We take off after midnight
already weary and half a day to go
I am one among hundreds of strangers
stretching across the great heart 
of the continent
exchanging hunger for the anesthesia
of a full stomach

I had to read it twice
amazed to imagine
the best is yet to come

A busy day ends
all chirping stills to silence
heads bowed under wings

The earth cools and turns
away now from the summer
toward winter's rest

It would be good to sleep
instead of wandering the house
turning three times
like the dog remembering north
and tucking my tail
draw from this great warmth
when I let the rest of the world
live just as it will

I will miss the way
this orange sky
surrenders to purple
and the deepest gray
How the whole earth stills
every rustling thing
surrenders to its night
and is alive again
at the whisper of morning

It's a good story
complete with meet-cute
the necessary plot twist
obstacle to overcome
and the ending tied up
in a pretty little bow
But it's not my story 
or yours
or any beating heart's 
It is what we wish it could be
to love, to love

I was married today
in another life
to a man who had no business
troubling me

His relationship with truth
distant like the cousin
you can't remember
but must invite

And every one was Darling
so he needn't remember
our names