What it takes
What it takes
Patient as a temple
God has never visited we all know the one
he leans like a pre-rung bell out front
boarded up after a smash-and-grab today
he beat the sun even
with his sway back day after day
“not yet not yet wait to tap
to pay”
shelves emptying like Lake Mead
desertification, driven out
by heat, green, greed
Once we followed the bus not like that but
into a neighborhood across the city
the place where he lived
We saw the hill he must walk up
We saw it flatten when he walked it
Here I sit with my myth
my valuable time adding stitch after stitch
to what fabric
This is a poem about what it takes, as the title suggests — both what it takes from us and what it takes to make something, everything, happen. Since arriving in Seattle I continue to be fascinated by this one older man who works at the pharmacy down the road. He is one of the most dedicated employees I’ve ever seen. He arrives early and stays late. Every interaction is handled with dedication and care. I’ve built up a bit of a mythos about him in my head.
Phillip Levine has a collection titled “What Work Is” which is a portrait of a place and people that doesn’t often wind up in poems. This week I’m thinking a lot about the unknowns of America.
A friend of mine recommended The Library Book by Susan Orlean which I’ve been enjoying. It’s a book about the history of the LA Central Library and the fire in the 80’s.
With gratitude,