the blessing/ joyce carol oates

Barefoot daring
to walk
amid
the thrashing eye-glitter
of  what remains
when the tide
retreats
we ask ourselves
why did it matter
so much
to have the last
word?
Or any
word?

Here, please—
take what
remains.
It is yours.


: joyce carol oates, ‘the blessing’; poetry magazine july/august 2020
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