How to Lament on a Tuesday at a Coffee Shop at 16:23 PST

How to lament on a Tuesday at a coffee shop at 16:23 PDT by Jarred Mercer I saw scenes of war that made me,held the dying child and bleeding mother,watched the man who never lived without shaking shake untilhe didn’t live. I knowthe sea’s creatures are strangled by our greedsmell the hellfire of dry leaves stripped from naked trees butmy daughter’s hugs sink in like rain in soil likesomething new will grow. I know the forcibly displaced with no homesee the erosion of my coastlinetouch the fear of generations butseals play like sea-puppies chasingtheir tales, bouncing their bellies onbulbous boulders at the same shore shaking offdespair into the deep and as I do the dishes the sun blushescherry and plum behind the house andwithout purpose laughter tickles our tongues andrattles our chest and on any given day a stranger’s smilecan save a life and sex can be good notjust a weapon and white veronicas bloom evenafter winter and someone somewhereis starting to sing. We weep on knees for centuries to learn lamentis the shape of hope. Poetry Home Art by Kateryna Bortsova