Sunday Poem

Personal

Don’t take it personal, they said;

but I did, I took it all quite personal—
.

the breeze and the river and the color of the fields;

the price of grapefruit and stamps,
.

the wet hair of women in the rain—

And I cursed what hurt me
.

and I praised what gave me joy,

the most simple-minded of possible responses.
.

The government reminded me of my father,

with its deafness and its laws,
.

and the weather reminded me of my mom,

with her tropical squalls.
.

Enjoy it while you can, they said of Happiness

Think first, they said of Talk
.

Get over it, they said

at the School of Broken Hearts
.

but I couldn’t and I didn’t and I don’t

believe in the clean break;
.

I believe in the compound fracture

served with a sauce of dirty regret,
.

I believe in saying it all

and taking it all back
.

and saying it again for good measure

while the air fills up with I’m-Sorries
.

like wheeling birds

and the trees look seasick in the wind.
.

Oh life! Can you blame me

for making a scene?
.

You were that yellow caboose, the moon

disappearing over a ridge of cloud.
.

I was the dog, chained in some fool’s backyard;

barking and barking:
.

trying to convince everything else

to take it personal too.
.
.

by Tony Hoagland
from Poetry, Vol. 194, No. 4, July/August, 2009