subway in march, 5:45 pm

by maggie nelson, from shiner

i take the long way home, knowing
i am free to choose happiness

or wander off into the tunnel
on the platform two teenagers french kiss, her lips

are enormous and soft and he seems at home with them
i feel crumpled like the pastel houses lining the canal

i am transporting an adorable succulent
the size of an infant's fist, holding it close as if

it were the one thing i had to keep alive
and thinking how much easier it would be

it all i had to love were this small plant
and then i wouldn't be so hard on you

and we could like the world before distrusting it
stop performing ourselves and let the pith of us

hang out. all these permutations of esteem and ridicule
when all i want is to stay focused on everyday life

what other kind of life is there?
all the world knows it, it's a miracle

the blue womb of evening
the nimble sparrow, the smug duck in the pond

the eruption of flowering quince
o shackle us to the rock of it

we will try to love each other
though there's wind on our heads

and we cannot read minds
the train jumps above ground

and stripes the car in gold light
it's the light of early spring