I need a poem
by Alan Perry
when the edges of our existence
aren’t clean, smoothed the way
​
they should be, jagged in their hurts –
when we remove what doesn’t belong
​
and our belonging is the suture
that closes, heals us –
when the numbers are against us
too many that count.
I need a temporal lift, a joy
that comes from far away
​
yet near, from the gifts
you bring me, like sacred honey
preserved each year, an amber collection
poured into hearts shaped like jars
savoring a taste of hope
when we crave it most.
I want that sweetness now
like one of the little altars we build –
flowers from a nearby field,
prayers we offer up, words
​
that inspire, reassure, save me
from despair the way you do.
Alan Perry is a poet and editor whose debut chapbook, Clerk of the Dead, was a finalist in the Cathy Smith Bowers Poetry Competition, and was published by Main Street Rag Press (2020). His poems have appeared in Tahoma Literary Review, Valparaiso Poetry Review, Third Wednesday, San Pedro River Review, ONE ART, Gyroscope Review, and elsewhere. He is a founder and Co-Managing Editor of RockPaperPoem, a Senior Poetry Editor for Typehouse Magazine, and a Best of the Net nominee. Alan and his wife live in suburban Minneapolis, MN and Tucson, AZ.
More at: https://AlanPerryPoetry.com