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Jeremy Hirsch Poem
When I think “next time I’ll”
And realize there will not be a next time,
A pressure pain twists my head a notch.
A mistake unfulfilled by repetitious learning.
A twinge says: if there is a next time,
You will err next time.
And if you err next time,
And you happen along the same path again,
Under mostly the same circumstances,
Ah,
Then,
My Boy,
Then you will learn for good.
He continues:
But that’s the small lesson,
And so see it now.
Perhaps you repeat the mistake.
Now
Think of the larger fracture
The event that lent your mistake.
Can you spot the break?
Point it on the print-out.
Were it an x-ray,
Would you worry malpractice?
You may get a call six-months time:
Misdiagnosis; there was no break.
Take off the smelly, itchy cast.
Hit the showers.
Soapy clean.
But in the amnesia,
Recall your other half.
Admit to guesswork.
Think how seldom you trust speculation.
You
The rational one
My Boy
Stroked it off easily this time.
Copyright © Jeremy Hirsch | Year Posted 2013
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Details |
Jeremy Hirsch Poem
Now, a bird sits on the wire outside my bedroom window
The view is narrow and birds rarely sit there.
Of all the days little bird,
Today, when the city worries about the snow storm
Well, we get cold rain.
Could he want a free ice bath?
Or he doesn't like roofs.
He moves a few feet and he’s covered
I don’t like roofs bird
But at least I can appreciate the luxury
You never take cover under manufactured cover
Do you know it isn’t for you?
(There are birds in the airport, you know.)
But it’s appealing
Sitting outside
Gray in the sky
I regard with a slower eye
A careful one for buildings and such.
Green brown plants and rusty orange pipes.
Rainsoaked wood brown.
He's still there,
Been there a while.
Very curious, bird.
Copyright © Jeremy Hirsch | Year Posted 2013
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