By Vivian Wagner
Earth,
I’m sorry.
We don’t know
what we’re doing, what
we’ve done, what we’re going
to do. We only know our
names, and yours, and the particular gray
of the clouds this morning, as they shroud
the moon watching over us all, a witness to
the ways we walk dogs, kiss daughters, and keep trying.
First published in What Rough Beast.
I love this poem. Thank You!