This Poem is Not a Poem
                                 BY JUDI BACHRACH
This poem outside my window
is the shad tree that is not a shad tree 
exuberant in white lace for spring 
an unidentified shrub
reminding me of the tree that bloomed 
for twenty-five years
outside my old bedroom window


This poem is the husband
who is the not the living husband
holding me
my empty bed
remembering
our love of almost fifty years
now a vast horizon
where the sun stunningly
dips down behind the ocean


This poem is a deadly pandemic
freezing in place
chaotic days and nights
that are not our days and nights
sheltering nostalgia for what was
compelling history
searching for
the right use
of our time
our actions
our hearts

This poem unmasks
a world of sighs and sorrows
a fierce skin-to-skin embrace
of love and beauty
in every hope and fear
a shimmering possibility
sweet breath by breath
creating what is
and what will be

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