Among the things she does not deserve

Buttery bright Italian olives, a friend’s tears falling freely, 

easy sleep, rainy Saturday mornings, mentors who respond 

with warmth for years, a lump of clay spinning silkily 

beneath her hands, empathy, sauvignon blanc served on 

a sunny patio, two full bookcases, the subtle curves of 

a horse’s hip and leg, friends sprinkled across half a dozen 

states, a heartfelt response, a yoga teacher pressing 

her shoulders against the ground, building anger, 

brittle fir needles, faith and doubt in equal measure, 

the desire to write, January, a grandmother with Irish blood, 

relief, handwritten letters arriving in the mail, too much 

salt on hot fried potatoes, a flattering dress, another plane 

lifting her into the sky, soft green jersey sheets, 

the gentle gift of his hands holding her face. 

*With many thanks to Dan Albergotti, from whom I stole the name of this poem, its general structure, and the inspiration for more than one item in the list. We all need more poetry in our lives. Go to it.