Old people write poetry
In the night
In the howling wind
With their socks off
And their bathrobes on
While someone they love
Takes the first shower
How did we know each other
Before this immediate connection?
Did our lives of long learning
Swirl around us and expire
When we lay down and exhaled?
Did we lose each other’s silliness
Earned by long griefs and sour tears?
My father said each mind’s a universe,
Each death a star collapsing on itself.
Maybe that was true before this,
When we could touch each other’s faces
But kept our quarantined minds.
Now that we’re all here in this room,
We share this blessed cosmology.